


To Love a Monster

by Coolio101



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Codependency, Gen, Mention of sex, Mentions of Prostitution, Reincarnation, Twin!fic, Violence, and domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:44:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6728149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coolio101/pseuds/Coolio101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How many lives would you sacrifice for someone you love?” It’s a question she was once asked in an ethics class, in another lifetime. Now, decades later, as she stares at the boy sleeping peacefully next to her, she finds that she still doesn’t know the answer. </p><p>In which an SI/OC has the dubious pleasure of being reincarnated as the twin of Aizen Sousuke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Caitlyn Siehl's post "Start Here."

**_When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it-- Caitlyn Siehl_ **

 

 _It starts and ends like this:_  

Hands around your throat, squeezing with bruising force as you panic because _this shouldn’t be happening_ and you’re only _twenty_ and although you’ve heard of things like this happening to people, in the news and the whispered warnings not to walk alone after dark, it was always supposed to happen to someone _else._ Not to you, not here behind your campus library where it was supposed to be safe—you were supposed to do things with your life, you wanted to travel the world and maybe study medicine someday, you weren’t supposed to end up as another _statistic._ You claw at the iron-strong grip cutting off your airflow, drawing blood with your fingernails, but it’s not enough, never enough and you feel so weak, as helpless as a worm speared on a hook. There’s adrenaline driving your motions and desperation clouding your mind and a sort of awful, all-consuming despair spreading through you as your vision begins to cloud over, as you feel your struggles start to weaken and your body go limp and you can’t _breathe_ but you try anyway because you don’t want to die yet, not when you still have so much to live for _—_

–only there’s something squeezing your head and there’s crushing pressure (not just against your throat, but your entire body now), and you’re surrounded by warm wetness, and everything is dark _._ But then the constricting heat vanishes and when air finally, _finally_ hits your lungs, the relief is so great that you immediately begin crying. Only there’s something wrong—your vision still hasn’t returned and your mind is a jumbled mess and you can’t move your arms and legs and as you feel yourself being easily lifted up, it hits you that you’re far too _small._

The shrill cry of a baby pierces your thoughts like a jackhammer to the head, loud and strident and utterly impossible to ignore. There’s a woman murmuring soothing words to you in Japanese—only three words reach you, though. After a while, they start blurring into one.

 _Sayuri and Sousuke._ Two names, always together, so tightly intertwined the individual words are near inseparable. _SayuriandSousuke._

You don’t know it yet, but the rest of your life would be defined by those words. 

 


	2. Story of a Caged Bird

Every culture has its stories of true love, of star-crossed lovers braving the odds to be together, soul-mates finding each other after decades of loneliness, princesses going on adventures and marrying far-off princes. Stories where everyone gets their happy ending.

This is not that kind of story, for all that it starts like one (the funny thing about romances and tragedies is that they so often start the same way). Here is how it begins:

There is a princess (there is always a princess). Fujiwara Shiori grew up the daughter of a noble, in a world filled with etiquette classes and calligraphy lessons and quiet conversations where she was expected to look pretty and keep her mouth shut. She lost herself in tales of passion and intrigue and _excitement,_ using them as a welcome escape from the ennui of her everyday life. At night, she dreamed of being free, of being able to marry for love instead of convenience, of having a husband who would see her as more than a decorative ornament, where her existence would amount to more than a political bargaining chip or a means of producing children.

( _No one ever told her that freedom has a cost.)_

Then there is the man she falls in love with—a mercenary with decent spiritual pressure, possessing the same edge of danger and strength she senses in the shinigami she comes across. Unlike them, however, he has no ties to the Seireitei ( _to her father, to all the crushing expectations placed on her)_. She meets him in a bar, after sneaking out of the city with several of her friends who are just as bored as she is (Kaiwan, the gatekeeper of East Rukongai had let them out with a knowing smile and a warning to be back by morning). Aizen Daisuke is charming and handsome, all sparkling eyes, smooth words, strong jaw, and quick smile. He spends hours flirting with her and by the end of the night, Shiori is half in love with him already. She leaves him with a promise to return next week.

A week’s waiting time turns into five days, then three, and before she knows it, she’s sneaking out of the Seireitei every time she gets a chance. Of course, all secrets come to light eventually and hers is no exception—after two months of clandestine meetings in run-down bars, Shiori’s father summons her to stand before him.

She offers no explanation, no words in her defense, refusing to make a sound even as her father slaps her across the face, hard enough to bruise ( _stupid, ungrateful girl, don’t you know how much trouble this could cause me? Have you no shame?)._ Instead she nods silently as he dismisses her, bribes one of her maids to send a message to Daisuke, and then prepares herself to be on her best behavior for the foreseeable future. She waits a fortnight, until she has convinced her father that she is as meek as she makes herself out to be, and then she packs up all the valuables she can find (money, gold, her dead mother’s jewelry) and sneaks out of the Seireitei for the last time.

She finds Daisuke waiting for her and as he welcomes her with open arms, she thinks _yes, this is what happiness is._

She isn’t mistaken, but this isn’t where her story ends either.

The first few weeks are bliss. Shiori takes on Daisuke’s last name, cuts her hair, and they travel to the 10thDistrict of East Rukongai, far out of her father’s reach. Daisuke takes on a position as a bodyguard to a relatively well-off merchant and they have more than enough money to live on, thanks to the size of Shiori’s ‘dowry.’ He makes love to her for the first time a week after they elope (and it hurts, it’s hot and messy and more than a little uncomfortable but she’d expected that after hearing about it from her older cousins—sure, sex could feel good, but that was a pleasure reserved only for men, wasn’t it?). All in all, she thinks she’s happier than she’s ever been in her life.

Here is where things start to go wrong:

Somehow, about a month after leaving the Seireitei, word gets out in the district that they have money. Within twenty-four hours, they’ve been robbed of half their kan and three-quarters of their gold. Daisuke yells at Shiori for a good half hour before storming away. Two hours later, he comes back with an apology and tells her to pack her things, that one of his connections had promised him a job in the 14thDistrict where they could start over.

Two months after that, Shiori watches her husband kill a man in front of her for the first time and spends the rest of the night alternating between throwing up and trying to wash the blood out of his clothes. He apologizes the next morning and brings her flowers, promising that he’ll try not to get any blood on his clothes next time. She wants to tell him that the _bloodstains_ weren’t the problem—it was the fact that he’d casually gutted a guy for flirting with her that had made her sick to the stomach—but doesn’t. It takes her a few days, but eventually she learns how to brush off her husband’s actions as him simply being protective. In fact, it’s almost sweet, if she looks at it in a certain way.

He starts to get rougher during sex, but given that he’s almost always in a better mood afterwards, she puts up with it. The way he holds her close—warm eyes and gentle, loving words murmured into her ear—is more than worth the blood between her thighs.

Daisuke gets fired from his job—something about getting into a fight with one of the other bodyguards. He tells her that they have to leave again in rough, angry tones before storming out. She pretends not to smell the alcohol on his breath when he comes back.

Shiori’s husband hits her for the first time when they’ve been together just after a year. Daisuke informs her that their money is almost gone and she unthinkingly points out that if he didn’t spend his entire salary and then some on sake and gambling debts, they wouldn’t have this problem. She regrets her words as soon as she says them, but it’s too late—Daisuke’s face goes pale with fury and the next thing she knows, pain is blossoming across her cheek and she tastes blood in her mouth. For the first time, she doubts her decision to leave home, but although she is Aizen Shiori now, she was Fujiwara Shiori once and she grew up a noble. She still has her pride, tattered though it may be, and she cannot quite bring herself to return and face her father as she is now (she cannot bear to let him see how low she has fallen). So she stays and she tells herself that she still loves the man who sleeps next to her every night ( _she has to love him—she gave up everything for him, so if she doesn’t love him, what reason does she have to live?)._

Daisuke treats her like royalty for the next two weeks, remorse and guilt evident in his caring touches, his soft words. Shiori smiles and lets herself enjoy it (she already knows it won’t last).

Indeed, after their next fight, which leaves her with hand-shaped bruises on both arms, he comes back to her reeking of sex, with what looks to be a hickey on his collarbone. Neither of them mention it. Shiori pastes a smile on her face (forcing herself to act as if her heart isn’t shattering piece by piece) and eventually life goes back to normal.

A month later, she misses her period. A few weeks after that, she starts throwing up in the mornings. Shiori may have been painfully naïve, once upon a time, but she was never stupid—and she recognizes the signs. That night, she cries herself to sleep. The next day, she tells Daisuke that he’s going to be a father.

He disappears for a week. Shiori agonizes over whether to keep the baby or not (there are ways, she knows, to terminate a birth). She has no means of support aside from an abusive husband she cannot help but love and a few heirlooms she cannot bear to part with, and her life is hard enough as it is. But when it comes down to it, Shiori is a selfish, selfish girl and raising a family is the last remnant of her childhood dream. She wants to _create_ something with her life, even if it means subjecting an innocent child to a world that will show it no mercy. In the end, it’s no decision at all.

Daisuke comes home. He is obviously conflicted, but Shiori can see some of what she feels reflected back at her in his eyes (that same desperation to _create_ something, to give meaning to his life).

Shiori’s pregnancy…changes things. Daisuke is obviously more careful around her and even when she incites his anger (an increasingly common occurrence these days), she can see him visibly restrain himself from doing more than snapping out a few frustrated words. There are times where she catches him staring at her growing stomach with something like awe, and in those moments, she thinks she sees something of the man she fell in love with. She can’t leave her house anymore (having children is near unheard of in the Rukongai and if there’s one thing she’s learned, it’s that standing out is never a good thing), and the pregnancy definitely takes its toll on her body (she’s _always_ hungrynowadays, and despite how much more she’s eating, it’s never enough—she can feel herself weakening even as she gets thinner, her bones are constantly aching, and she never feels warm anymore), but despite everything, she’s almost…content.

Giving birth is more painful than she could have ever imagined, but she’s used to pain by now, so it’s okay. It’s worth it, anyway, to see the soft look on her husband’s face as he hands their children ( _their children!)_ over to her. Sousuke was unexpected but not unwelcome, she thinks, as she looks down at the two miracles in her arms. She can’t deny that a part of her feels absurdly proud—almost giddy, in fact. Having a child is rare, having twins is…well, there have only been one or two documented cases in the past few centuries. She can’t bring herself to regret having two children instead of one, despite knowing that it’ll place an even heavier burden on their already strained finances. At least this way, she knows that neither one of her children will ever be alone.  

Daisuke, surprisingly enough, takes to fatherhood like a fish to water, constantly doting on both his children—loving in a way he hasn’t been with her in almost a year. Shiori watches him cradle their son with pride and calm their daughter down from her hysteric fits with seemingly endless patience, and for the first time in a very long time, Shiori allows herself to hope. _Sayuri and Sousuke,_ she murmurs to herself at night, over and over again. It sounds like a prayer.

Three weeks later, everything crashes down around her when Daisuke goes out and only his body—bloody and broken and _empty_ —comes back. _Sorry about your loss,_ one of her husband’s friends (she can’t remember his name, she only knows that he was the one who carried Daisuke home) whispers before fleeing out the door, leaving her alone with Dai—no, her husband’s _corpse._

 _I’m a widow now,_ Shiori thinks hysterically to herself before she falls to her knees and ** _screams._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review on your way out! Next chapter should be posted in about a week :)


	3. Broken Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my tumblr (cooliogirl101) for more of my writing :)

Shiori spends the days after Daisuke’s death in a daze, numb and uncomprehending. She moves on autopilot, absentmindedly feeding her children even as they drain her dry of milk ( _always hungry, always demanding more, more, more)._ She can feel herself fading away, growing more distant until even her children’s cries are not enough to rouse her from her stupor.

She can’t bring herself to care.

The first two years are the years of grief. However, despite her growing indifference to the world around her, Shiori still possesses some sense of duty as a mother. So she sells off her mother’s heirlooms one by one (and ignores the bitterness curling inside of her)—sentimentality is not a luxury she can afford right now, not with two ravenous babies to feed and no source of income. She makes herself to get up even on the days where she just wants to sleep her life away, forces herself to eat, and ensures that Sayuri and Sousuke are clean and fed before tumbling back into bed. In the back of her mind, she knows that she is failing as a mother—that babies need touch and warmth and love in order to thrive—but she also knows that she does not have it in her right now to provide those things. Not when she is drowning in grief (for all his faults, Daisuke had been her husband and she had loved him), not when both his children resemble him so much it sometimes _hurts_  to look at them. So she ignores Sousuke’s cries and his plaintive whines and she misses the way Sayuri is far too quiet, a silent shadow beside her brother’s bright presence.

In time, it gets…easier to deal with Daisuke’s loss. She will always miss him, because that’s what happens when you lose someone you sacrificed your entire world for, but the raw, gaping, all-consuming sense of  _loss_ has faded away into an aching loneliness that she has learned to ignore. Being a mother, on the other hand, only seems to get harder.

It doesn’t help that she  _never gets a break_ and her children are so…needy. Surely not all babies are like this? Constantly whining to be fed, begging for attention, always demanding more than she has to give _._ Especially in Sousuke’s case—instead of waning, his appetite has only grown upon being introduced to solid foods (why did she have to get stuck with the children with high reiatsu?). He cries incessantly, loud wails that hurt her ears, and at times Shiori is tempted to scream at him to just  _shut up already._ He is an infant and he knows nothing of grief, of the burden of responsibility—what does he have to cry about?

Despite being lower maintenance than her brother, though, it is Sayuri who truly disturbs her. The first few weeks after her birth, Sayuri had been…difficult. There were times where she’d wake up in a panic, hyperventilating uncontrollably, before suddenly breaking out into hysterical screaming fits that lasted until her voice broke. It had been bearable, though, with Daisuke around to calm her; he’d always had a knack for getting her to relax. Things hadn’t changed until around the time of Daisuke’s death, but while she stopped screaming and having panic attacks (what kind of baby has panic attacks?), her new behavior wasn’t normal by any means. It was unnerving, the way she’d remain unresponsive for hours on end, staring blankly at nothing (in retrospect, perhaps Shiori should have been more worried about that, but all she’d felt at the time was relief that she didn’t have  _two_ screaming babies to deal with).

As strange as her daughter’s tendency to check out of reality is, it’s not nearly as bad as when awareness returns to her solemn eyes, the way she _understands_ —far more than an infant should be capable of, and it only gets worse as the years go on, when her periods of lucidity get longer. Sayuri doesn’t speak much, not like her brother who picks up words and phrases like he was born to do it, but she seems to take in  _everything._ She regards Shiori warily whenever she has a particularly stressful day and just wants to lash out. She looks at Shiori with pained sadness when Shiori drinks what is left of her late husband’s alcohol stash on the one-year anniversary of Daisuke’s death and spends the night crying in a pool of her own vomit. She even eyes Shiori with something like pity once Shiori starts bringing strangers into her bed in an attempt to ease some of the hollow feeling inside her (Shiori still doesn’t enjoy sex, but the heat of skin-on-skin contact and the sensation of being  _wanted_ are addicting things. She makes excuses for herself—tells herself that she’s only being pragmatic, since many of her partners leave her with money or gifts. It doesn’t change the fact that she’s become a common whore, identical to the women her father once spit upon in disdain).

It is the last emotion Shiori cannot stand, that makes her turn her head away unable to meet her own child’s gaze. Sometimes, Shiori hates her for it.

Despite her reservations however, Sayuri and Sousuke are still her children and she still cares for them. So when one of her partners begins to look towards the twins with calculating eyes and casually mentions that he knows a guy who might be interested in children with high spiritual energy, Shiori tells him exactly where he can shove his ‘offer’ and demands that he leaves immediately. No matter how angry or frustrated she is at times with Sayuri’s quiet pity and Sousuke’s endless curiosity (there are times Shiori regrets teaching him how to talk, as he’d swapped out the unending crying of his earlier years with unending ‘why’s), she will not leave her children with some power-hungry, stupidly ambitious man who will parade her children around like trophies at best, and turn them into unthinking weapons at worst. She’s seen what happens to children who have the misfortune to attract the attention of those men, has seen the dead look in their eyes, and she…she refuses to subject her children to the same fate.

The man who was inside her mere moments ago—Shiori does not even know his full name, only that he was one of Daisuke’s acquaintances and that his last name is Yamashita—simply laughs in her face when she shoves him out the door.

“Don’t be foolish, Aizen-chan,” he says chidingly. “Those children of yours…I’ve seen how much they eat. It doesn’t take a sensor to tell that both of them have spiritual energy—the boy more so than the girl, and even the girl has more than enough to be of interest. How much longer do you think you can hide them? At least with me, I’ll guarantee that they don’t end up with anyone  _too_ awful.”

He raises an eyebrow when Shiori lets out an ugly snort. “There are some people with rather…unsavory tastes regarding children in the Rukongai, Aizen-chan. I’ll let your imagination fill in the blanks.” He smiles mildly as he watches the blood drain from Shiori’s face. “One last thing I want you to consider. Your husband was a pretty good buddy of mine and in honor of that, I won’t force you to do anything. But if someone else comes knocking—and you know it’s only a matter of time before they do—what’s to prevent them from simply  _taking_ the kids from you, regardless of what you want? It’s not like you could do anything to stop them.”

Shiori cannot suppress a flinch this time and Yamashita’s smile widens. “You could, of course, turn to that mysterious family of yours you seem so unwilling to talk about, but I think we both know you won’t do that,” he says softly, stroking her cheek. “Your other option would be to contact the shinigami but…well, I rather doubt they would accept recruits so young. Unlike in the Rukongai here, they have  _standards_ to uphold.”

Shiori bites her lip and looks down, unable to refute his words. He reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, almost kindly. “Think it over,” he murmurs. “You’ve done a fairly decent job at hiding them so far—that girl of yours, at least, seems to know to keep out of sight when company is around—but I’d say you have about six months, if you’re lucky, before they catch the attention of someone far less sympathetic than I. Given how fast their energy levels are growing, you probably don’t even have that much time. I’ll be back every week until you have an answer for me.”

Yamashita keeps his word, and every time he returns, he comes with more poisonous words whispered into her ear.

_How long do you think it’ll be until they start attracting hollows?_

_At least this way, I can make sure you’re well compensated._

_Your funds are already low—are you willing to drain them for a hopeless cause?_

Each time, Shiori can feel her resolve weakening. She’s just always so  _tired_ these days and if she’s being perfectly honest with herself, she knows that she’s only prolonging the inevitable by resisting. Besides, would it really be so bad? Even if her children do end up under the care of some crime boss, at least then they would be decently fed. They’d be taught to defend themselves, as well, and while it might cost them their innocence—at least they’d be  _alive._

By the third month, Shiori makes her decision. 

 

* * *

 

“What have you done?” A horrified voice asks from behind her. Shiori turns around to see Sayuri staring at her with something like bewildered hurt on her face. “You…something’s changed, I can tell…what did you  _do_?”

For a moment, Shiori closes her eyes. She does not want to have this conversation and Sayuri really should be asleep given how late it is (Shiori doesn’t know why she’s awake in the first place), but Yamashita will come in about two hours and…if nothing else, she owes Sayuri this. She owes her daughter an explanation.

“One of my…acquaintances will be taking the two of you to a place where you will receive protection as well as training from one of his bosses. He’ll be arriving in two hours,” Shiori says tonelessly, even as she hides a wince at the flash of betrayal that flickers across Sayuri’s delicate features (her daughter may have Daisuke’s thick brown hair and his dark, penetrating eyes, but her facial structure—her cheekbones, the fine line of her nose, the curve of her chin—is eerily like Shiori’s).

“Prote— _you’re_ supposed to be the one protecting us! And instead, you decide to abandon us? Throw us away like trash?” Sayuri asks disbelievingly. Something in Shiori snaps, then, her carefully constructed façade of indifference crumbling away like dust.

“You ungrateful girl!” It is only later that Shiori realizes how much she sounds like her father in that moment. “I’m only doing what’s best for us! For  _all_ of us!”

“Mm. And I suppose you’re not getting something out of this deal?” Sayuri asks shrewdly, eyes sharp. “What did he promise you in exchange for us, I wonder?” Shiori flinches.

“That’s…that’s irrelevant,” she stutters. Sayuri has always had the ability to make her feel like a child again and she  _hates_ that. So what if Yamashita had offered her enough money to get by for the next year in exchange for her cooperation? It wasn’t like the money had factored into her decision (she would have made the same choice even without it). No, it was just a…bonus, and if she chose to accept it, well that was only common sense, wasn’t it? Being pragmatic wasn’t a crime.

“Not so selfless after all, then,” Sayuri says softly, accusation heavy in her gaze.

“What do you know about selflessness?” Shiori spits out defensively as long buried resentment begins to bubble up inside her. “You have no right to judge me, you cannot even  _begin_ to understand the sacrifices I’ve made just to keep you and your brother safe and healthy. How much of a burden–”

“Don’t you dare.” Sayuri says coldly, and Shiori has to take a step back at the sheer  _fury_ in those eyes. “Don’t you  _dare_ turn this back around on me and Sousuke. I do not deny that being responsible for our wellbeing has placed a burden on you, but you don’t get to blame us for that. Not when you took on that responsibility willingly, not when it is your  _job_ to care for us as a parent–”

“It’s my  _job_ to give up my life for you?” Shiori laughs bitterly. “You’re just as self-absorbed as your brother.”

“No,” Sayuri answers quietly, an almost sad look crossing her face. “No, it’s your job to love us. And I know that you’ve tried, but…you’ve never quite succeeded at that after dad died, did you?”

Shiori deflates, her shoulders slumping. “That’s…that’s not true. How can you say that? Of course I love you. I’m your moth–”

“Don’t.” Sayuri cuts her off, voice brittle. “You gave up all right to call yourself that the moment you looked at us and decided that we weren’t worth it. That  _keeping us_ wasn’t worth it.”

Shiori looks at her daughter then,  _really_ looks at her, and for the first time in years, she doesn’t see an adult in a child’s body staring back at her. She sees a fragile little girl who’s just been let down in the worst way, upset and hurt but trying so  _desperately_ to hide it, concealing her tears behind clenched fists and a forced smile (a ghost of another girl who placed her trust in a parent only to be disappointed). Something in Shiori breaks at the sight and she turns away.

“I didn’t…I didn’t have a choice,” she whispers to herself. Something softens in Sayuri’s expression and she steps forward to take Shiori’s hands in her own.

“Thank you,” she says, after a pause. “For raising us. You’ve given up a lot for Sousuke and I, and I’ll always be grateful to you because of that. But now that you don’t have to look after us any longer…take care of yourself for a change, okay?” There’s a tinge of resigned sadness in her voice, but her words are sincere. She  _genuinely_ wants Shiori to be happy even as she willingly relieves Shiori of her duty to be a mother—an absolution and a goodbye all in one.  

“I’m sorry,” Shiori blurts out. It’s the first apology she’s made since Daisuke hit her for the first time.

“I know,” Sayuri says simply. It’s not quite forgiveness, but her gaze is understanding all the same. It’s still eerie, seeing sympathy in those dark, dark eyes—Daisuke’s eyes—when Daisuke himself had never looked at her that way, but for the first time, Shiori doesn’t resent her for it.

Sayuri’s attention flickers towards the back of the room and a second later, Sousuke’s head peeks around the doorframe. A hint of exasperation enters the older twin’s features.

“Sousuke. What are you doing up? You’re supposed to be asleep,” she scolds. Shiori thinks it says a lot about their relationship that Sousuke doesn’t call his sister out on the hypocrisy of her statement. Instead, he shuffles his feet together sheepishly even as his lower lip juts out in a pout.

“Can’t. You weren’t there,” he mumbles, before taking in the slightly tense atmosphere in the room, the slight redness in Sayuri’s eyes, the way Shiori is clutching Sayuri’s hands just a little too tightly. “What’s goin’ on?”

Something twists in Shiori’s chest at the way Sousuke automatically looks towards his sister, how he only relaxes once she sends a reassuring smile his way. She knows she shouldn’t be surprised, that such behavior should be expected, even, but…

“Nothing.” Even Shiori is surprised by how steadily her voice comes out. “Come on, you two should both be in bed. It’s late and you have a big day tomorrow; get some rest.”

Ten minutes before Yamashita is supposed to show up, Shiori sneaks into the twins’ room. Both of them are fast asleep, cuddled together like a pair of puppies. Maybe it is masochistic of her to do this, but she cannot resist one last goodbye, cannot resist running her hand through Sayuri’s hair one more time, or pressing one final kiss to Sousuke’s forehead. At the last minute, Shiori hesitates before slipping her mother’s necklace—a simple jade pendant, and the one heirloom she has not been able to bring herself to sell—over Sayuri’s head, tucking the green stone under her clothes, before exiting the room noiselessly.

It’s the last time she sees them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review on your way out :)


	4. Lost and Found

Aizen Sayuri doesn’t actually learn her last name until she is three years old. Then again, it takes her a while to learn much of anything.

The first few weeks are the worst. Everything is a blur of panic and denial ( _nononononothiscan’tbehappening),_ of terrifying, frustrating confusion as her brain (slow, sluggish, useless) refuses to work properly. In the beginning, all she knows is that her body is not her own, the woman calling her by a strange name and who speaks to her in Japanese is not her mother, and although the man who sometimes rocks her to sleep has a deep, rumbly voice that reminds her of her father’s, his scent and the texture of his hands are wholly different. As days go by, however, the pieces begin adding up to form a picture she cannot accept ( _she cannot accept that she has died because that would mean she can’t go back—that all she has worked towards has come to nothing, that she will never see her family or friends again)._ She ignores what logic is telling her and instead, she screams until her throat is rubbed raw in an attempt to wake herself up from this nightmare that cannot be reality. It doesn’t work, but that doesn’t stop her from trying anyway.

The thing that pulls her back from the brink, that stops her from going insane, is the energy _._ She hadn’t noticed it at first, too caught up in trying to adjust to her body’s new limitations, but it is so completely _foreign_ that eventually it breaks through her shell of _angerpainfeardenial_ and she latches on to it with the desperation of a drowning man _._ It gives her something to focus on, to distract herself from the pathetic helplessness of her current body and the crushing grief as she slowly, gradually, begins to face the fact that _this is her life now._

The mysterious energy is especially concentrated around her new…brother (she finds it bitterly ironic that she’d wanted a sibling all her life, and it had apparently taken _being strangled to death_ for the universe to grant her one). It feels warm and pure and so bright that she can almost visualize it, shining like a sun in her mind. Her parents have it too—it flows like a gentle breeze around her mother, bringing to mind images of spun sugar and delicate wind chimes. Her father’s energy is starkly different, and it curls around her and her brother protectively, possessively, the hard durability of steel mixed with the heat of an open flame.

She spends hours, days, observing the signatures of those around her, honing her sensing ability until even without her sight (the most she can see with her eyes right now are blurs of color), she can tell exactly where they are. It’s how she senses her mother’s energy spike sharply late one night, lashing out wildly in what she somehow knows is grief (it’s too raw, too uncontrolled to be anything else). It’s how she realizes that her new father is never coming back, as the traces of his aura around the house fade until all that remains is a gaping hole where there was once safety and confident assurance.

There isn’t much to do as an infant, and as Sayuri feels her mother withdraw from her and Sousuke (her energy, once hopeful and gentle, now clings defensively to her like a coat of armor), she spends long moments exploring the strange energy coursing through and around her body (a cleansing type of coolness, the sensation of a wet towel on a feverish forehead). On the days where that is not enough, she loses herself in the feel of her brother’s innocent aura. The purity of his energy is incredibly calming—like sinking into a warm bath at the end of a long day—but most importantly, it has the added bonus of distracting her from the gnawing hunger whenever their mother forgets to feed them, the panic she feels whenever she wakes up with the sensation of hands around her throat, and the all-consuming sense of loss she faces whenever her thoughts accidentally stray back to the life she _should_ be living right now.

As time goes on, she begins to learn how to read it, the subtle ways it reacts to his emotions _._ It’s not quite empathy, as she cannot feel what he does—rather, it’s more akin to learning a language based on intuition and sensation rather than words and structure (it helps that he’s so unguarded, the simplicity of his feelings making it easier to match the way his aura thrums and quivers with his specific emotions), and it…anchors her, keeps her from losing herself in memories.

Still, it isn’t until almost a year passes that things start getting better—not that she knows this. In this body, where the only routine in her life is provided by a depressed, grieving woman, she has no concept of days, weeks, even months. All she knows is that eventually, while she still buries herself in the sensation of her brother’s aura (she cannot quite think of him as her twin, as someone the same age as her although she knows that physically, they are only minutes apart), it is more out of boredom than a need to escape. Her throat still burns and her eyes sting whenever she thinks of her family and friends, the way they must be grieving for her, but she thinks the fact that she can bring herself to think of them _at all_ is an improvement. Slowly, oh so slowly, she begins to stop hiding away and it hurts, it hurts _so much_ , but she’s already allowed someone to take one life from her. Like _hell_ she’s going to let them ruin this life too.

She picks up a lot more information once she starts making an effort at accepting her situation. Her infant mind, while utterly useless at computing problems expediently, seems to pick up languages far quicker than her adult mind was ever able to and it takes astonishingly little time to relearn the half-forgotten Japanese of her childhood. Her new mother helps in her own way—while she is hardly in the state of mind to devote herself to teaching Sayuri and her brother how to speak properly, she has developed the habit of muttering to herself as she goes through her daily routine ( _time to get up Shiori, one of the vendors is having a sale so remember to go out and buy more food, the water is running low so you need to refill that sometime, make sure to feed Sousuke and Sayuri two more times today)._ The blanks she leaves are often filled in by Sayuri’s own knowledge and she practices enunciating the words by babbling at her brother (the English she mostly keeps to herself. Her new mother already looks at her warily enough; she doesn’t need to add to that by showing unexplained knowledge of a foreign language). By the end of her second year, she can almost call herself fluent.

Still, despite her newfound resolve to learn more about her new life, it isn’t until four months past her third birthday that she hears her last name for the first time.

_“Aizen-chan.”_

She doesn’t pay it more than a passing thought, although a part of her is amused by the fact that apparently her brother shares the same name as the antagonist of a manga she’d once liked. At the moment though, Sayuri is far more preoccupied with the fact that a stranger has her mother pressed against a wall, hungrily devouring her mouth even as he whispers filthy things into her ear, what little energy she can sense from him thrumming with something she will later identify as _desire,_ while her mother’s shrinks back infinitesimally in a manner Sayuri will soon associate with _shame._

* * *

 

Sayuri doesn’t figure out that she’s somehow landed herself in a _fictional universe_ until she is four years old. She knows that the world she is in is not quite the same as the world she left behind—for one, the people in her world certainly didn’t have auras (or if they did, she lacked the ability to sense them). For another, she seems to have regressed in time; there’s no other explanation as to why she seems to be in ancient Japan, and then there’s the fact that she and Sousuke are aging…slower than expected. It takes her a while to learn more than that—given that her mother refuses to let her and her brother go outside, opportunities for learning about her environment are rather limited. Sadly enough, her primary source of knowledge are the men her mother brings home. Still, she gradually picks up small pieces of information, and they come together to form a conclusion so ludicrous that she discounts it the first, second, and third times she comes to it. But the puzzle pieces keep on coming—words like _Rukongai, shinigami, souls, Seireitei, hollows—_ and eventually she cannot dismiss the similarities as mere coincidence anymore. When she adds in her observations on the strange energy that surrounds all the people she has come into contact with (everyone seems to have it to some extent, although some people have it more than others), well…she has no definitive proof, not yet, but for the first time she feels a spark of unease as she looks towards where her brother is taking a nap next to her. Because if she _is_ right, then—

At that moment, Sousuke rolls over so that his face is pressed against her cheek. Sayuri sighs heavily as she feels his sticky-wet drool on her skin and makes a face at his sleeping form. Of course, rather than wake up in the face of her silent disapproval, her brat of a brother instead nuzzles closer to her and continues to slobber messily all over her face. In response, Sayuri resigns herself to a future of baby-spit and chooses to feel grateful for the fact that at least her body has retained _some_ essential functions—like the ability to roll her eyes.

She takes her suspicions and locks them away in a dark corner of her mind. Even if she _has_ been reincarnated into a manga (god, even _thinking_ that feels ridiculous), there is no real evidence that _Sousuke,_ her brother (her one constant in this world that is terrifyingly foreign at times), is the same person as _Aizen,_ the man who gave up everything for power. So what if they share a name and some physical features? It’s certainly not out of the realm of possibility for two people to have the same name, and brown hair and eyes are not exactly _uncommon._ And even if Sousuke’s energy ( _reiatsu,_ she corrects herself) surpasses that of anyone around them, it’s not like she’s had the opportunity to compare him to that many people in the first place.  

 _No,_ she decides firmly, as her brother mumbles something in his sleep about running away from monster natto. There is no way that Sousuke, with his bright laugh and innocent questions, who trusts her so much it almost _hurts,_ could grow up to be a criminal mastermind with a thousand masks.

(She doesn’t let herself consider the alternative.)

 

* * *

 

_“Sayuri? What’s that o’er dere?”_

_“Hmm? Oh, by the windowsill? That’s a butterfly, Sousuke.”_

_“I like it. Can I keep it?”_

_“Keep it? Oh, no. No, you never want to cage something with wings, Sousuke. There are some things that are just meant to fly.”_

_“But it’s pwetty.”_

_“Well you know, it wasn’t always that way. Interesting thing about butterflies—they start off as these fuzzy little worm-like creatures called caterpillars that are pretty much completely helpless. Can’t walk fast, can’t fight…the only thing they can do is blend in with their surroundings and hope something doesn’t eat them. After they grow big enough though, they form a cocoon around themselves and that’s when the real change happens. Their body transforms completely and when they come out...well, you can see the result over there.”_

_“Really? That’s so cool! Hey, d’you think I could be a butterfly someday?”_

_“…a butterfly?”_

_“Yeah! So that I could grow wings an’ fly wherever I want an’ no one would be able to stop me…unless they try ta catch me, but then I could just out-fly them.”_

_“That sounds very nice, Sousuke, but I don’t think that’s how it w--”_

_“Great! And you’ll come with me, right? ‘Cause it’d be kinda boring bein’ by myself all the time.”_

_“…”_

_“Sayuri?”_

_“…yeah. Yeah, I’ll fly with you.”_

_“You promise?”_

_“Promise. We’ll see the world together someday.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are always welcome and if you want to chat, you can find me at cooliogirl101.tumblr.com :)


	5. Rules of the Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who were wondering, Sousuke and Sayuri were about eight, almost nine, when Shiori gave them up. Physically, they’re about three, although both of them are stronger/faster than normal toddlers because hey, reiatsu perks. Mentally, Sousuke is about six-seven, although he is quite a bit more mature/intuitive in some ways—yay, perks of being a genius. 
> 
> This chapter is pretty much snapshots of Sousuke’s early life, and they may or may not be in chronological order.

Aizen Sousuke’s first word is _Sayuri._ It takes him two years to learn how to say it and get the syllables right, but even at that age, he knows that names and words are important. It’s worth the effort, anyway, to see the way his sister stares at him in stunned silence before her whole face lights up, the way she even _feels_ brighter, somehow. Her eyes are clear instead of cloudy as she babbles excitedly at him (tells him that she is so, _so_ proud of him and he cannot deny the warm curl of satisfaction that forms in his chest at her words), and for a whole week she stays with him instead of retreating to that place in the back of her mind where he cannot follow.

He makes a note to say her name more often after that.

 

* * *

 

Sousuke learns what _reiatsu_ is when he is four years old. He remembers that it was the sudden feeling of something being _missing_ that woke him up, cold blankets where there should have been Sayuri’s comforting presence. Before he can panic, he spots his sister sitting at the foot of their futon, her face set in an uncharacteristically serious expression. However, what catches his attention is the softly glowing sphere floating between her open palms, illuminating her figure.

“What’s dat?” He asks, fascinated, all thoughts of sleep forgotten. She glances at him, casually extinguishing the ball of light as she does so. He finds himself wishing that she’d bring it back—it had been awfully pretty, as if she’d taken all the moonlight in the room and condensed it into one shimmering orb full of silvery-white light.

“It’s called…reiatsu,” she answers after a short pause. Sousuke waits for her to elaborate like she usually does but she remains in contemplative silence, gaze oddly troubled.

“It’s cool,” he adds, because it _was._ Sayuri looks up at his comment, a curiously detached look on her face.

“I suppose. It confirmed some things for me, at least. I wonder…” She tilts her head to study him then, eyes dark and inscrutable and completely empty of the warmth they usually contain. Without the affectionate fondness in her eyes, Sayuri looks like a completely different person—a stranger with a familiar face _—_ and Sousuke freezes as the seconds go by because he cannot understand why she is looking at him that way (it’s not like the times where she gets lost in her own head; he can tell that she is aware of him, she just doesn’t _care)_ and he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong, only that he _wants his sister back_ and—

A sob breaks through his lips and Sayuri blinks, her previously blank expression replaced by one of concern.

“Sousuke?” She asks worriedly, reaching out with one hand to gently wipe at the moisture welling in his eyes. “Hey, hey, don’t cry. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to make you sad,” she says earnestly with an edge of desperation, and practically shoves his previously discarded blanket at him. “Here. Maybe hugging this will make you feel better? Um—”

He ignores the blanket and instead flings his arms around her tightly. She stiffens for a moment before relaxing and after a while, Sousuke feels his panic begin to fade as sleepiness takes over. Just before he loses consciousness, he hears Sayuri murmur something to herself, her voice shaking almost imperceptibly.

“Coincidence. It’s just a coincidence.”

 

* * *

 

Sayuri’s favorite game is the Invisibility Game. For the longest time, Sousuke doesn’t understand why she seems to like it so much. There are games that are far more fun in his opinion—games like tag, and tic-tac-toe, and I-spy. The Invisibility Game is kind of like hide-and-go-seek only there’s no _seeking,_ and Sayuri insists on playing it every time their mother brings one of her friends home (Sousuke doesn’t care much for them. They smell bad, are loud and obnoxious, are usually ugly to boot, and Sayuri always gets a weird look on her face when they come over).

The rules of the Invisibility Game are simple: _Don’t let them see you. Don’t let them hear you. If you’re discovered, you lose._

It’s as boring as it sounds, and the only good thing about being forced to sit in silence for hours on end is the fact that Sayuri always rewards him with a story of his choice once the game is finished, complete with detailed illustrations carved onto the dirt floor using a sharp rock (stories about the outside world, ranging from things like _trees,_ strange plants that apparently change color with the season, to _stars,_ balls of flaming gas that shine brightly enough to be seen entire galaxies away).

Today’s worse than usual though, since Sayuri’s in one of her moods—her eyes are all glassy and she hasn’t said a word in almost half an hour—and their mother, of course, is too busy with her _friend_ to pay him any attention. So he stomps over to the kitchen, doesn’t even try to be quiet (if Sayuri’s not even going to bother being around, then why should he bother to play her stupid Invisibility Game?), and starts looking for something to eat. He spies a bag of crab apples on the table and _of course_ they’re too high for him to reach and he feels his eyes start to sting with frustration and—

“What the hell’re you doin’ here?” A voice snarls drunkenly from behind him. He turns and sees his mother’s friend—a new one, Sousuke doesn’t remember seeing him before—stagger into the room. He’s holding a bottle and it sounds half-full, its contents sloshing around with every step. Sousuke stares at him with wide eyes and the man glares at him. “What’re you lookin’ at? Sumthin’ funny to you? Scram!”

At that, Sousuke scowls indignantly. “It’s _my_ house. Why should I haveta listen to _you?”_

“You’ll listen to me if you know what’s good for you, brat, although if my head weren’t killin’ me right now, I’d beat some discipline into you anyway. Do your mom a favor,” he says, taking another swig from his bottle. “The fuck is wrong with kids these days? Mouthin’ off all the time, not knowin’ to respect their betters…”

“You’re not the boss of me, dummy,” Sousuke mutters rebelliously. Something ugly crosses the man’s face and his grip tightens around his bottle. Instinctively, Sousuke backs up against the wall, trepidation flickering in his chest, as the man takes a step forward and—

“My brother has a point,” Sayuri says calmly from the doorway, causing Sousuke to jump in surprise and the man to pause. Her face is carefully blank, but there is an undercurrent of something undecipherable in her voice that makes Sousuke uneasy. She tilts her head to the side, an odd smile on her lips as she studies the man across from Sousuke. “After all, if we’re supposed to ‘respect our betters,’ then shouldn’t you be listening to him, not the other way around?”

“Why you--” The man whirls around and the next thing Sousuke knows, there is a sickening thud, a sharp cry, and then Sayuri is lying crumpled on the ground, motionless. He looks on with wide eyes, numb and uncomprehending, as the man spits on her before kicking her in the ribs, hard, once, twice, three times. At the last one, Sayuri lets out a pained whimper, bordering on a sob, and it’s that, more than anything else, that breaks Sousuke out of his horrified trance (he’s never heard his sister make such a sound before and he already knows he never wants to hear it again).

Sousuke doesn’t remember rushing to her side; all he knows is that one minute he is frozen in shock and the next, he is kneeling down next to her limp form. He swallows heavily as he sees the trickle of red seeping from the corner of Sayuri’s mouth, even as he reaches out with one shaking hand to brush his fingers against the dark purple blossoming across her cheek. Something dark and ugly simmers low in his stomach and there is a dull, ringing sound in his ears and he doesn’t know what it is, only that he wants to tear the man in front of him apart, make him scream loud enough to drown out the memory of his sister crying out in pain, make him _hurt—_

“You--” He begins, voice trembling, before a warning squeeze around his wrist makes him stop. He looks down to see Sayuri shake her head almost imperceptibly, her fingers gripping his arm nearly hard enough to bruise.

_Don’t. Please._

And Sousuke understands, understands what she doesn’t tell him in words—that he’s not strong enough, that by trying to do anything he’ll just make things worse, and he _hates_ it.

“It’s okay,” Sayuri whispers to him as soon as the man is gone. She offers him a faint smile but on her battered face, it’s not as reassuring as it usually is.

“No, it’s not,” he snaps back at her, voice breaking slightly, because he may not know as much as Sayuri, with her seemingly endless knowledge of the world around them, but even he knows what pain is. And he’s learned enough about fairness in all those stories she’s told him to know that it’s _wrong_ for her to be in pain when she’s never hurt anyone in her life. There’s no fairness in the blood on her swollen mouth, and no matter what she says, that is _not_ okay. Sayuri pauses at the fierceness in his voice, before something softens in her expression. 

“You’re right. It’s not,” she says quietly. “But it could have been worse. It could have been _you._ ”

 “Well someday, it won’t be either of us,” he tells her seriously. “’Cause when I grow up, I’m gonna be big and strong and I won’t let any stupid dummies hurt you anymore. I promise.”

Sayuri lets out a soft, choked laugh and reaches out to pull him close.

“I love you so much, you know that?” She murmurs fondly. “My little hero.”

He doesn’t say anything in response, just curls up closer to her, but inwardly, he thinks her words over. He may be too weak now, but one day…

 _Her hero._ He likes the sound of that.

 

* * *

 

There are two main rules in the Aizen household. Rule number one is _don’t go outside._ Rule number two is _don’t go into kaa-chan’s room when she’s with her guests._ By the time he is seven, Sousuke has broken both of them.

The first happens when he is five years old. On their birthday, Sayuri pokes him awake in the dead of night and motions for him to follow her while making a shushing gesture, one index finger pressed to her lips. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes, abruptly awake as he remembers her promise to show him a glimpse of the outside world as a present, a world that until then, he’d known only through her stories. He stumbles after her as she makes her way to their front door and watches as she pauses for a moment.

“There shouldn’t be anyone nearby right now,” Sayuri says after a few minutes, shoving the chair jamming the door out of the way. “We won’t be able to do this once kaa-chan replaces the lock, and it’s definitely not safe to do this in the daytime when there’s people around, but for now…” She glances at him, the barest hint of a smile tilting her lips up as she offers him her hand and pushes open the door. “Coming, Sousuke?”

It’s too dark to see much and they don’t go further than a few steps, but it’s the first time Sousuke feels wind rushing through his hair (and it even _smells_ different than the air inside, like dirt and wood and something he can’t describe) and it’s the first time he can fully appreciate the night sky and there’s something amazing about all of that. Judging by the way Sayuri is looking around with awed eyes, taking everything in with the same hunger that he is, she feels the same way.

For a long time, neither of them say anything. It isn’t until the sky begins to lighten as the first rays of sunlight warm the air that Sayuri turns to him with a faint smile.  

“Happy birthday, otouto.”

 

* * *

 

The second rule, he breaks by himself during a game of hide-and-seek.

It’s his turn to look for Sayuri. Again. For the fifth time in half an hour. Because for some reason, Sayuri always manages to find him in under one minute while if he’s lucky, he can find her in thrice that amount of time.

Sousuke scowls at the thought, even as he checks under the blankets in their bedroom for what must be the fifth time. Still, he supposes he shouldn’t complain, since this is one of the rare moments during which Sayuri had deemed it safe enough for them to take a break from the Invisibility Game (“kaa-chan and her guest will probably be occupied for a while, so I guess it’s okay for us to go outside for a bit”).

Speaking of which…he hesitates before glancing over at the closed door leading to their mother’s bedroom. Surely she wouldn’t hide in there, right? For as long as he can remember, Sayuri has been adamant about him never going into that room when the door is closed—something about ‘adult activities’ and ‘privacy time’ and ‘I’ll explain when you’re older.’ Still, he’s checked all the usual hiding places and a part of him can’t deny that he’s curious about exactly what it is his mother _does_ with her friends (whatever it is, it sounds painful with all those grunts and moans, kind of like that time he had a bellyache).

 _It won’t hurt to just take a peek,_ he reasons to himself. He wouldn’t even be stepping inside, really—he’d just crack the door open an inch or two, take a look inside, and then leave. Just to make sure Sayuri isn’t hiding there.

It takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light of the room and Sousuke’s first thought is, _Sayuri was right, adult playdates are weird._ For one thing, why aren’t they wearing any clothes? Although to be fair, he notices that they don’t look very cold, since his mother and the man with her are both breathing hard and sweating.

There’s a strange smell in the air as well, heavy, pungent, and yet oddly familiar. As he watches the man push his mother down into a kneeling position— _why is she kneeling?—_ he realizes that he’s caught traces of the scent before, lingering on his mother’s skin when she tucks him and his sister into bed at night.

At that moment, the other man lifts his head up and looks directly at Sousuke. Sousuke lets out a gasp, stumbling backwards slightly—but surprisingly enough, the man doesn’t look angry. Instead, an amused smirk crosses his face as he deliberately places a hand on the back of Sousuke’s mother’s head and presses her face further into his lap.

 _Wanna watch?_ He mouths with a deceptively-friendly wink, causing Sousuke to flinch backwards. He feels abruptly sick all of a sudden, because even though he doesn’t understand exactly what’s going on, every instinct he has is screaming that there is something _wrong_ with this scene _,_ and that he shouldn’t be watching this, and—

“Sousuke.” Sayuri’s voice comes from behind him and he turns to look at her with wide eyes because he’s never heard her sound so furious before. He opens his mouth to apologize (and why hadn’t he listened to her in the first place? He should know better—the last time he disobeyed her, it had ended with her getting punched in the face and kicked in the ribs) and reaches out to touch her but stops because for the first time, she doesn’t feel like soothing coolness and gentle moonlight. He can’t describe it, but she feels…both colder and hotter somehow. Like the painful burning sensation caused by sticking a hand into cold water for too long.

“Sayuri?” He asks, voice small. She turns to look at him and he recoils at the look on her face. Her lips are pressed tightly together into a thin line, and there is something hard and unforgiving in her eyes. Something softens in her expression when she looks at him though, and Sousuke relaxes since it appears that she’s not angry at _him,_ at least.

“Come on,” she says quietly and he follows her into their bedroom. She sits down on their futon and buries her face in her hands, and not for the first time Sousuke wonders how it is that they are the same age when she seems so much older than him.

“I’m sorry,” Sayuri says finally, after a long pause. Her voice sounds brittle, on the verge of breaking, and she rubs at her eyes tiredly. “You…you shouldn’t have had to see that. I should’ve been more careful, should’ve been there to stop you, should’ve _protected_ you and I—” She inhales shakily, hands clenching, and falls silent.

“Sayuri?” Sousuke asks cautiously, when it doesn’t look like she’s going to continue. “What was kaa-chan doing with her friend?” For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, just stares at him with an unreadable expression on her face. Then she mutters something under her breath that sounds like frustrated gibberish before turning back to face him.

“Sousuke, you know how we were playing hide-and-seek earlier?” When he nods, she adds, “Well, just as we have things that we like to do for fun, adults also have special…games that they like to play. And usually, these games involve them, ah, touching and…kissing each other in places that are normally covered by clothes.” Sousuke can’t help but notice that she starts looking increasingly uncomfortable. “Anyway, not all adults play them with each other, and only with people they like in a certain way. While most of these games happen between people of opposite sexes—that is, a girl and a boy—some girls only like playing them with other girls, just as some boys only like playing them with other boys. For others, they like playing them with both girls and boys, while some adults don’t like playing these sorts of games at all. All of which is fine, and you’ll probably figure out which type you are when you grow up a little. With me so far?”

Sousuke thinks her words over in his head and decides that it seems simple enough. “Uh-huh! But then, how come you were so mad before?” At that, she stiffens, a trace of her earlier anger darkening her features.

“Because every game has rules. This kind of game is very…complex, but for now, there are two rules I want you to always remember,” she says softly. “The first one is, you never play that kind of game with someone who doesn’t want to. The second one is, it should never be played with someone who isn’t an adult. When you’re older, things will be different, but for now I don’t want you anywhere _near_ that kind of stuff.” There is a sudden urgency in her voice and she cups his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. “And I…I know that this is difficult to understand, but if anyone who’s not kaa-chan or me looks at you for too long, or…touches you in a way that makes you uncomfortable, I want you to come straight to me, okay? I promise, I’ll find a way to take care of it.”

“Sure. Those games don’t look very fun anyway,” he agrees and watches as something like relief floods across his sister’s face. One thing is still bugging him though.

“What happens if someone does that to you?” He asks. _Who’ll take care of you?_

The corner of Sayuri’s mouth curves up, a wry twist of her lips that isn’t quite a smile. “Don’t worry about me, Sousuke. I’m a big girl—I can take care of myself.”

 

* * *

 

Two months before his ninth birthday, Sousuke learns what loss is.

“Wake up, Sousuke.” He blinks blearily at the sensation of a gentle hand shaking him awake and yawns heavily.

“Hnng?” He mumbles, before rolling over to go back to sleep. “’s nigh’. Go’way, Sa’uri.”

“I know. And I know you’re tired, but I need you to get up for me, okay? One of kaa-chan’s friends is here, and he’s going to…he’s going to take us away for a bit.” Sayuri’s voice wavers towards the end but Sousuke ignores that in favor of the implication behind her words.

“We’re going outside?” He asks in amazement, sitting up. Sayuri nods, and there is something oddly forced about her smile.

“Yes, Sousuke, we’ll be going outside for a long time. It’ll be…it’ll be exciting. Like going on an adventure—just the two of us.” Her voice cracks and she clears her throat. “Now come on; we don’t want to keep the nice man waiting, do we?”

“Mmkay!” He agrees, and takes her hand. The rest of the night is a blur—all he remembers is being hustled outside by a man who seems vaguely familiar. There’s not much time to take anything in since the man seems to be in a hurry, although Sayuri does point some things out to him quietly as they walk along unfamiliar roads—a dango stand, a bookstore, a restaurant. He absently wonders where they’re going, but decides that as long as Sayuri is with him, it doesn’t really matter. Somewhere along the way, he must have fallen asleep because he wakes up in a strange room to the sensation of fingers stroking his hair.

In the light of day, he can see that Sayuri’s eyes are red and swollen, as if she’s been up all night. He looks around and for the first time feels a glimmer of trepidation. It takes him a minute to figure out what’s wrong—it’s not so much the unfamiliar surroundings as it is the feeling that something’s _missing._

“Sayuri? Where’s kaa-chan?” He asks hesitantly, because their mother has left them alone before, but never for so long. He extends his senses, but he still can’t feel her reiatsu—normally a constant, faint presence on the edge of his awareness—anywhere.

Sayuri clutches at something under her shirt, squeezing so tightly her knuckles turn white.

“I don’t—it doesn’t matter. She’s gone,” she answers hollowly. Sousuke blinks uncomprehendingly at her, because what does she mean their mother’s _gone?_

“What are you talking about?” He asks, an edge of panic rising in him. Sayuri glares at him and Sousuke flinches back at the sight of tears glittering in hard, angry eyes.

“I mean that she’s not coming back!” She snaps harshly. “She gave us up and we’re probably never going to see her again and we have to accept that _this_ is our home now, or else we’ll starve to death on the streets and that’s if the lack of shelter doesn’t kill us first! And I can’t do anything about that because I’m in the body of a _toddler_ and besides, I have _you_ to worry about and I—” Her voice breaks and she turns away, shoulders shaking. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

“But…you always know what to do,” Sousuke protests after a pause. Because that’s just the way things _are—_ Sayuri’s the one who teaches him about the outside world, who comes up with games for them to play when he’s bored, who determines whether or not something’s safe, and if _she_ doesn’t know what to do, what happens then?

Sayuri stiffens, before her lips tilt up in a sad smile.

“Not this time, Sousuke,” she says quietly, reaching out to grasp his hand. “It…it’ll be okay though. As long as we have each other, it’ll be okay.” She falls silent for a moment. “It really is just the two of us now, huh? Just us against the world.”  

Sousuke thinks of their mother, the way she’d never really had time for him and Sayuri. To be honest, she’d always seemed a little broken (vacant eyes and fake smiles hiding behind perfect manners). His favorite thing about her was probably the way she’d sometimes hum soft lullabies to him at night—she had a lovely voice, sweet and gentle—and even then, there had always been an impenetrable air of detachment around her.

 However, there were times when he’d catch a glimpse of life in her eyes, a hint of reluctant pride flashing across her face when looking at them, and he feels an odd emptiness inside him at the thought that he’ll probably never see it again. It feels a little like hunger, the way it aches and leaves him longing for something to fill the gap, and Sousuke blinks rapidly as he feels moisture prickling at the corners of his eyes.

He looks down at his hand, resting underneath Sayuri’s, and the feeling fades a little. In that moment, he decides that he’ll start a new game, just for the two of them. And well—no game is complete without rules.

“Rule Number One: no leaving,” he says firmly, jutting his chin up. Not that he thinks his sister is going to leave him, but he hadn’t thought his _mother_ would leave him either and—

Sayuri glances at him in surprise before understanding softens her expression.

“No leaving,” she repeats, squeezing his hand. “That’s a good rule.”

 

* * *

 

If there is one thing Sousuke detests _(hates)_ about his sister, it is the way her eyes go distant sometimes as she looks at him, a curious mix of being detached, sharply analyzing, and wary all at once. It happens at the most random times (the first time he managed to summon a ball of reiatsu, that time he found a worm in his rice and spent an afternoon poking it to see how it worked, the time he talked their mother into giving them a second dinner) and in those moments she looks at him almost like their mother used to, like she’s seeing another person in his place. It makes him so angry he just wants to shake her, scream at her, _hurt_ her, do whatever it takes to force her to _see_ him again (to get rid of the tightness in his throat and the aching panic in his chest). Because even though those moments usually don’t last for longer than a few seconds, Sayuri is the one person in his life who can understand him without even trying, and he can’t stand the thought of her looking at him and seeing someone else. After all, the last person to look at him and see a ghost had been his mother and as far as he’s concerned, the fewer similarities there are between Sayuri and Aizen Shiori, the better.

“Sousuke?” Sayuri’s worried voice breaks him out of his thoughts and he looks over to see dark eyes staring at him in concern. “Are you alright?”

He blinks, but doesn’t bother trying to put on a fake smile—he already knows she won’t be fooled. Instead, he lets his lower lip tremble before confessing, “It’s nothing. I was…I was just thinking about kaa-chan.” Which is true enough. He’d learned years ago that lies didn’t work on Sayuri.

Sayuri’s eyes soften understandingly. “It’s okay to miss her, you know,” she says gently, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him.

“Of course,” he agrees, and takes shameless advantage of her sympathy to bury his face in the crook of her neck. Sayuri generally doesn’t like to be hugged—actually, she doesn’t like experiencing any kind of confinement—so he’d learned early on that the best way to get close to her was to get her to come to him. Purposely getting her to initiate contact was a little difficult in the beginning, but if there’s one thing that’s predictable about Sayuri, it’s that she’s never been able to stand seeing him in pain. If he happens to take advantage of that…well…it’s only fair, really. Sayuri has been his world for as long as he can remember. It only makes sense for her to be just as attached to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *accidentally gives Aizen Sousuke a sister complex the size of Soul Society*  
> Oops.  
> Anyway, Sayuri is still neck-deep in denial, but the seed of doubt has already been planted. So despite how much she tries not to, a part of her mind can’t help but draw comparisons between her brother and canon!Aizen (for good reason).  
> Gonna be my last update for a while, since I’ll be heading off to an internship for 2 months. Which is why I decided to post an extra-long chapter; probably not my best work, but I really wanted to finish this. I do hope I did a decent job in portraying Sayuri’s struggles and how she’s trying her best to be the mature adult in Sousuke’s life (even though she was barely an adult herself when she died, and still isn’t over her grief). Not an easy job, mind you—an alternate title for this chapter could probably be ‘In Which Sayuri Fights a Losing Battle to Preserve Aizen Sousuke’s Innocence.’


	6. Charcoal Drawings

The first few days after being…taken away from her mother ( _sold,_ a small part of her mind whispers. _Like an animal. Like a slave),_ are a blur of confusion, fear, and grief. She and Sousuke are locked in a tiny room and they are fed once a day through a small flap cut into the door. The only thing she has to distract her from obsessing over their possible fates (are they going to be forced into prostitution? Harvested for organs? If worse comes to worse, can she buy Sousuke enough time to run?) is her brother and his incessant curiosity.

So she does what she’s always done—she teaches him about the world through stories, because it’s a fucking _crime_ that a child so eager to learn about anything and everything has been locked up all his life. And she does her best to make it beautiful, uses her words to create enchanting images until her voice cracks, but then the door opens and a guard yanks her out of her wailing brother’s grip and she closes her eyes because she can’t pretend that everything is okay anymore.

“Huh. Normally they’re crying by now. You’re a tough one, aren’t you?” The guard observes. Sayuri doesn’t say anything, just presses her lips into a tight line and looks away. He chuckles.

“Don’t say much, I see. Say, what’s your name anyway?” Sayuri deliberates with herself for a moment but decides that if she’s going to die, she wants someone here to know who she was.

“Sayuri. Aizen Sayuri,” she answers in a clipped voice, and doesn’t bother asking him for his. He tells her anyway.

“Nice to meet you, Aizen Sayuri,” he says, flashing her a crooked grin. “My name’s Yamato Tatsuya.”

They reach the end of the corridor and he doesn’t say anything for a while, just hands her a white cotton robe to put on. She accepts it with a blank expression even as her thoughts race frantically—white, the color of purity, of innocence, of death. What, is she supposed to play the part of the virgin sacrifice in some sick, perverted man’s fantasy? She briefly considers making a run for it but dismisses the idea just as quickly; no, she can’t run, not with Sousuke still here. Besides, the thought that she can outrun _anyone_ in this useless body of hers is laughable.

“Word of advice.” Yamato’s voice brings her back to reality and she looks up to find him studying her with an odd smile on his lips. “Once you’re out there…be selfish.”

“Selfish?” She echoes, confused. Yamato nods, his smile twisting into something bitter.

“Mmm. Now’s not the time to be altruistic and get bogged down by morals. Go out there, put on a good show, impress the higher ups, and you might just survive.” He shrugs. “It’s what I did, after all.”

Before Sayuri can ask him any further questions, she finds herself shoved into a huge, fenced-off space. The seats lining the area are packed and there’s a boy standing on the opposite side of the arena. He looks to be a few years older, maybe seven or eight physically, and something about him makes her shift uneasily. Maybe it’s the way his eyes are wild, desperate, like a rabid animal’s. Maybe it’s the way she can see him running his eyes over her body, lingering on her pudgy cheeks and thin arms, cataloguing every weakness. Maybe it’s the way his reiatsu feels…sharp, somehow, jagged along the edges, ready to lash out at a moment’s notice. Dangerous, in the way that a rat backed into a corner is. 

There’s something familiar about this whole setup, the way she can practically taste the anticipation in the air, the bloodthirsty enthusiasm she can sense in the spectators…almost like the atmosphere at a big sporting event, Sayuri thinks absently, but not quite. She looks to the jeering crowd and with a sudden burst of insight she realizes what this reminds her of. A trip to Rome, a visit to the Colosseum…the tour guide explaining the violent games that used to take place there…

Horrified comprehension dawns on her as the puzzle pieces start slotting into place—Yamato’s advice, the calculating way the boy across the arena keeps sizing her up, the reason why these men would be interested in children of high reiatsu (after all, they’re relatively easy to obtain and have the durability to last longer) and she feels like she’s going to be sick. There’s no time for that though because the announcer gives them the go-ahead and the other boy doesn’t hesitate, he charges straight at her before she has time to regain her bearings and the next thing she knows, she’s on the ground.

It’s no contest. The other boy may be thin, malnourished, but so is she and he’s twice her size. But more than that, he knows how to fight, how to _hurt,_ and it’s all she can do to try to protect the more vulnerable parts of her body. In fact, the only reason she’s still conscious is because she’s been experimenting with using reiatsu to shield herself ever since the first time one of her mother’s boyfriends slapped her across the face, but it’s not enough. A blow to her stomach knocks all the air out of her body, and she’s wheezing, sobbing, probably going to die in the next five minutes and _oh god,_ what’ll happen to Sousuke when she’s gone—

A clip under her chin sends her head flying back and with a savage grin, the boy leans down and grips her throat with both hands, squeezing, squeezing, _squeezing_ and all she can think is _no, not again, not like this._

Something in her snaps then. She reaches deep inside herself, for that ball of cold heat in her chest that she discovered years ago, lets it flow through her body and down her arms until she’s throwing the boy off her. But that’s not enough—he’s already getting up, already recovering, and if she gives him the chance, he’ll be back with his hands around her neck, that _awful, constricting pressure_ will be back and—

Sayuri doesn’t know how long she blanks out for but by the time she comes back to herself, the audience is on their feet, clapping and roaring with approval. She doesn’t pay attention to any of that though, too focused on the disfigured body she’s leaning over. It’s barely recognizable as human anymore—the head’s been transformed into a gooey slick mess of red and gray with chunks of bone scattered about and everything from the chest up has been utterly annihilated.

With a start, she jumps away and she wants to close her eyes, wants to stop looking at the person that she just _murdered_ (and he was just a child, wasn’t he? Just a child), but she can’t seem to tear her gaze away from the butchered corpse in front of her. Her ears are ringing and it’s only compounded by the cheers of the crowd behind her and even though the pressure against her throat is long gone, she still feels like she’s not getting enough air and she can’t _breathe—_

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up,” a warm voice says in her ear as a hand closes tightly around her wrist, pulling her out of the arena and into a nearby washroom. She barely makes it there before she’s throwing up noisily into a chamber pot, tears stinging her eyes as she tries her best not to cry.

“Damn, girl,” Yamato sighs, rubbing her back soothingly. “You sure know how to make an impression, don’t you, princess?”

“Why…why didn’t you warn me?” Sayuri asks, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before throwing up again as she realizes just _what_ her hand is covered in. Yamato smiles wryly.

“Would it have made any difference?” He asks. Sayuri stays quiet for a moment, bile rising up in her throat as she remembers the way the boy’s skull had caved in under her fist like a rotted pumpkin.

“No,” she says stiltedly. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t have.”

“Hey,” Yamato says soothingly. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You had no choice, okay?” When she doesn’t reply, he sighs in exasperation. “Figures you’d be one of the kids mature enough to have a sense of morals coming in. Yes, you killed someone. Yes, that boy had a life, a future. But so do you. Don’t feel bad for protecting it.”

For a long moment, Sayuri doesn’t say anything, just looks down at her hands.

“Will you help me clean up?” She asks finally. “Sousuke’s waiting for me and I don’t…I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“Of course,” Yamato agrees easily. “And hey, look on the bright side. You really impressed the boss-man—I don’t think anyone was expecting you to win, to be honest—so if you play your cards right, he might give you a little reward. You made him a lot of money today; I mean, the odds were stacked against you 15:1. And if you get good enough, make yourself valuable enough, he might take you out of the ring in a few years and give you a more secure position. Then—”

“Why are you helping me?” She interrupts him abruptly. “You said so yourself; no one was expecting me to win.” He stills, a shadow crossing his face.

“I guess I’m just tired of watching kids die,” he answers, gray eyes distant. “I may not be able to do anything about that, but I figure the least I can do is be nice, you know? It costs me nothing and it can make your lives so much easier. Besides,” he lets out a weary laugh, “I figure my soul can use all the redemption it can get at this point.”

 

* * *

 

Sousuke’s first fight is later that week. According to Yamato, his opponent is going to be a ten-year old girl, fresh to the Rukongai. There’s a choice to be made here and Sayuri doesn’t even hesitate.

“What kind of sister am I, to teach my little brother how to kill?” She asks softly after Yamato tells her about the match, how Sousuke had punched the girl’s nose hard enough to rupture her brainstem. It hadn’t been too hard to recreate the short burst of strength she’d managed in her own fight, and although she was never a fighter in her past life, she remembered enough basic anatomy to know how to injure a person fatally. Sousuke, as he’d done with everything she’d taught him so far, had soaked it all up like an information-gathering sponge. Add in the fact that even at this age, Sousuke had perhaps five times the spiritual energy the girl did, and…

_Remember Sousuke, a battle between people like us is a battle between spiritual pressures. As long as the reiatsu shielding your body is stronger than the reiatsu covering your opponent’s weapon—whether it’s a fist or a blade—they can’t reach you._

The girl never stood a chance.

“The kind that wants her brother to live,” Yamato answers. “There’s no crime in that.”

“I…I can’t lose him,” Sayuri confesses suddenly. “Even if it means destroying his innocence myself, I can’t lose him. But I…I also don’t want him to become cold, you know? To get so used to killing that he becomes indifferent to people.”

“Then give him a reason to care,” Yamato replies, as if it’s that simple. And maybe it is, but there’s a sinking feeling that she doesn’t want to acknowledge telling her that he’s _already_ growing indifferent to people. She tries her best to ignore it. So what if he killed someone near effortlessly? It’s not like she’s any better.

_I…I know that it’s going to be hard and I just want you to know that I’ll be there for you afterwards—_

_Nee-chan, stop. It’s okay. I don’t mind._

_You…you don’t?_

_Is killing that girl gonna make you happy?_

_No—I don’t—_ you coming back to me _is going to make me happy._

_And for that to happen, I have’ta kill that girl, right? Then that’s what I’ll do. So smile—I don’t like seein’ you so sad._

* * *

 

True to Yamato’s word, a few days after Sousuke’s fight their new…owner (the word sits heavy in Sayuri’s throat) comes to visit them. Matsushita Ryuga is a slightly overweight man with beady black eyes alight with childlike eagerness and far too much money to spend. Greed—slick and nauseating—taints his reiatsu like oil in a lake and he smells strongly of grease and sweat. Sayuri hates him on sight.

“So these are my newest warriors, hmm?” He croons, tilting Sayuri’s head back like a potential buyer inspecting a horse. Sayuri stares straight ahead, her expression giving nothing away even as Sousuke twitches at her side. “My, my. You know, when Yamashita brought you to my attention, I have to admit I wasn’t expecting much, but that just goes to show that even I can be wrong at times, eh?” He chuckles, patting her head like an indulgent owner petting a cute but dim-witted puppy.

“I am happy that you were satisfied with my performance, Matsushita-sama,” Sayuri says in a slightly stilted voice. “I hope that I can continue to impress in the future.”

“Well, I have no doubt about that!” He laughs, shaking his head. “That fight, oh man. I haven’t seen one so brutal in years! Absolutely breathtaking.” He turns to Sousuke and ruffles his hair. “And you sure showed that bitch, didn’t you? That blow to the nose was classic. People’ll be talking about this for _weeks,_ I tell ya.” He grins at them, bouncing on his feet like an overexcited child. “Tell you what. As a reward for doing such a good job, I’ll even treat the two of you to something nice. Is there anything you want? Never let it be said that Matsushita Ryuga doesn’t take care of his fighters; after all, this way you win, I win, everyone’s happy.”

Sousuke glances hesitantly at her and when she gives a tiny nod of approval, he turns to Matsushita hopefully. “Um, is it…is it okay if I get some candy?”

Candy. Sayuri swallows. Yet another thing he’s only experienced in her stories.

“Why, of course, my boy!” Matsushita booms before turning to her. “And you, little girl?” Sayuri pauses.

“If it’s not too much trouble, Matsushita-sama, I would like to request something to draw with,” she says quietly.

That night, a stick of rock candy and a couple sheets of paper along with a few charcoal pencils is delivered along with their dinner that night. As Sousuke tries out the hardened sugar, Sayuri sits down in the corner of the room and starts to draw.

It’s a bit difficult at first—she’s out of practice and charcoal has never been her favored material to draw with. Still, she still remembers the basics and before long, a figure begins to form on the paper. Normally she’d need a reference point, a model to look at in order to draw something so detailed, but that’s not a problem here. After all, this face has haunted her every night for the past week.

“Who’s that?” Sousuke asks, peering over her shoulder after several hours have passed and curiosity gets the better of him. “I don’t recognize him.”

“He was my opponent in my fight,” Sayuri replies quietly. With one hand, she smudges the bottom line of the boy’s eyes, creating deep, bruise-like shadows under them.

“Why are you drawing _him_?” Sousuke asks in disgust. “He hurt you! He tried ta _kill_ you!”

“And I can hardly blame him for that,” she sighs, before turning to face her brother. “Life is a high-stakes game, Sousuke, and you play to win. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t honor those who lost. And…” She turns back to her drawing. “I feel like I owe it to him to remember his face, at least. Since I’m the reason he’s not here anymore.”

“He wouldn’t do the same for you,” Sousuke points out with certainty.

“Probably not,” Sayuri agrees. “But that’s not the point, is it?”

 

* * *

 

The problem with trying to escape is that unless they’re in their room (a room that can only be opened from the outside), Sayuri and Sousuke are almost always kept separated. Still, after the first time Sousuke almost loses a fight (comes back bloodied and beaten and crying), Sayuri starts coming up with plans to run away. A feigned illness and an attack from behind get them out of their room on a night when Yamato is off duty—they make it almost two blocks before they’re caught.

As punishment, Sayuri is torn away from her brother and thrown into an underground room barely wide enough to fit a grown man, where scraps of food are thrown down once every two days. It stinks in there—she tries to avoid going to the bathroom as long as she can, as the chamber pot is only so big. She can’t see anything either, because the room’s completely sealed off except for a trapdoor at the top, and she doesn’t dare use her limited energy to light up the room, not with the way they’re starving her. The loneliness is the worst part though, she thinks, because no matter how shitty her life has been, at least she’s always had Sousuke at her side. But here she can’t even sense his energy, can’t tell what they’re doing to him, if he’s even _alive._ After the first few days, she starts talking to herself just to make sure that _she_ still is, that she isn’t just a corpse buried underground somewhere and forgotten.

Sometimes she feels like she’s going insane because there are days where she _swears_ she can feel the walls closing in on her, pressing down on her from all sides like the earth itself is trying to squeeze the life out of her, and although some part of her mind tells her that it’s all in her head, she can’t seem to stop herself from panicking, hyperventilating, clawing at the walls until her fingers bleed and breathing in the rancid, stale air until she passes out and the whole process starts all over again.

When they finally let her out, she doesn’t speak for a week, just clutches Sousuke to her like a lifeline even as she ignores his worried, frantic inquiries (his punishment hadn’t been quite as harsh, but then again, it was fairly obvious that she was the one who’d plotted the escape). Yamato later tells her, sympathy clear in his eyes, that she’d been locked away for two weeks (funny, it’d seemed like a lifetime).

She doesn’t try to run away again.

 

* * *

 

On their tenth birthday, Sayuri is scheduled to face off against a teenager who just failed his second shinigami academy entrance exam. When the match is over, Sayuri is so injured she has to be carried back to her room, suffering from multiple broken ribs, a fractured wrist, and a face so swollen it’s barely recognizable. That night, Sousuke throws a tantrum for the first time in years.

“ _Why are you still drawing him?”_ He screams at her, even as he rips her latest portrait to pieces. “He almost killed you! You should _hate_ him, not…not spend hours making some kind of memorial to him!”

“Sousuke…” Sayuri begins, a little stunned by his sudden outburst. “Sousuke, calm down.”

“No! Cuz you’re doing this ta hurt yourself, and it’s stupid!” Sousuke glares at her. “You spend half your time here going through those dumb pictures of yours and every time you do so it’s like…” He swallows heavily. “It’s like you think you shoulda died instead, or something.”

“I—that’s not true,” she denies weakly.

“Yes it is! And it makes no sense cuz you don’t hate _me_ for killin’ those people before they could kill me first, so I don’t get why you hate _yourself_ for doin’ the same thing.”

For a moment, Sayuri just stares at her brother, at his teary eyes and flushed cheeks and the way his chest is heaving with emotion, before turning away.

_Little brat. He really is too perceptive for his own good, isn’t he?_

“I can’t promise to stop drawing.” Sousuke opens his mouth to protest, but she holds up a finger to stop him. “But I will…try to stop punishing myself.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles, and she can’t resist pulling him into a hug. Ever since she was…locked away, she hasn’t been able to bear being far from him for long periods of time. Luckily, Sousuke doesn’t seem to mind the increased physical contact; in fact, he almost seems to crave it.

“Don’t cry, things are going to be okay,” Sayuri says, kissing away his tears. The fear she can sense in his reiatsu subsides a little but doesn’t go away completely, so she continues, “I’m not planning on going anywhere. Rule number one, remember? No leaving.”

 

* * *

 

“You’ve gotten a lot better,” Yamato observes one day after she finishes two fights in a row. Matsushita had been pleased—enough to grant her request of spending an hour outside, as long as she’s accompanied by a guard. “Both you and your brother. I mean, both of you have always had a scary amount of reiatsu for your age, but you’re starting to learn how to really _use_ it. Most of your opponents need a knife in order to injure you at all, now.” He pauses. “That last sneak attack…you knew what she was planning. I saw you—by the time she made her move, you were already dodging.”

“Mmm,” Sayuri hums noncommittally, without looking up from her sketchbook.

“How?” Yamato demands. “ _I_ didn’t even see that coming.” Sayuri pauses for a second, wondering if she should answer, but…despite everything, she likes Yamato. Even trusts him to some extent, although Sousuke doesn’t seem to share her opinion (she’ll never understand why her brother dislikes the gray-eyed guard so much, when as far as she knows, Yamato’s given him no reason to).

“No matter how faint a person’s spiritual energy is, or how hard someone tries to mask it, it’s impossible to hide it completely. And as long as a person’s reiatsu is detectable, there are always going to be things that it gives away,” Sayuri answers finally. “What a person is feeling…if they’re planning to attack…whether their intentions are friendly or not…of course, everyone’s emotions feel different, but there are patterns, if you know what to look for. It’s just a matter of learning how to read them.” For a moment, Yamato just stares at her.

“You can sense reiatsu to that extent?” He asks incredulously. “Not just in people with high spiritual energy, but everyone?”

Sayuri shrugs but doesn’t answer. _It wasn’t too hard,_ she thinks wryly. _All you have to do is come from a world where spiritual energy is nonexistent. Then, spend a year or so mostly blind with reiatsu-sensing being one of your primary ways of tracking people. After that, spend a couple years losing yourself in the feel of your own reiatsu and the reiatsu of those around you in an attempt to escape your own memories. Finally, get thrown into a situation where your chances of survival depend on your ability to read people._

“Well, whatever you do, it’s damn scary to watch. That match this morning didn’t last more than thirty seconds at the most,” Yamato says, face unreadable. There’s something almost like sadness in his reiatsu though, and Sayuri turns away.

“Things are better when I’m…quick. Efficient. They suffer less,” she says in an attempt to excuse herself. But the thing is, it _is_ getting easier. She kept her promise to Sousuke in that she tries her best not to linger on each death, but she isn’t sure the numbness that saturates her every time she steps into the ring is much better. Especially since more and more often, it follows her outside the ring as well. Even when she draws (she still refuses to reduce the people she kills to faceless figures), it’s hard to muster up anything more than a detached sense of pity.

She supposes it really is true that human beings can get used to anything. Even killing.

As if reading her thoughts, Yamato places a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay to dissociate yourself a little. You have to close off your heart in this place, because you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself otherwise. But try not to lose it either, okay? You’re a sweet girl—it’d be a damn shame if you lost your ability to care.”

“I won’t,” she promises, although she can’t remember the last time she allowed herself to feel— _really_ feel—for anyone except her brother and, she supposes, Yamato. But then, if Yamato could make it through the fights and retain his empathy, could bring himself to reach out to those who could die at any moment, then surely she could as well, right?

“Who’s that?” Yamato’s voice brings her out of her thoughts and she looks up to see him pointing at her sketchbook. It’s open, revealing a picture of a girl with short, messy, dark hair and a pair of rectangular glasses on her nose. Unlike most of her drawings—she prefers to draw people the way she remembered them in life, not death—the girl’s cause of death is obvious, her delicate throat marred by ugly, hand-shaped bruises. “I don’t recognize her as anyone you’ve fought before, although—” He squints, tilting his head to the side. “She kind of reminds me of an older version of you, for some reason. Similar hair.” He glances at her. “Same eyes.”

“Ah,” Sayuri blinks. It had been a while since anyone had asked her about one of her drawings—Sousuke certainly doesn’t, not anymore. “She’s…someone I knew a long time ago.”

“I see.” Yamato’s eyes are soft with understanding. “What was her name?”

At his question, Sayuri swallows convulsively, clutching her sketchbook tightly to her chest.

“Lily,” she whispers, the syllables foreign now but still so familiar. “Her name was Lily.”

 

* * *

 

A month later, a fight breaks out between a few of the guards. The next time Sayuri has a match, it’s a different guard who escorts her to the arena. She doesn’t say anything at first but as she’s walking back, she can’t resist asking him where Yamato is.

“Yamato? That idiot?” The guard snorts, shoving her into her room. “He’s long gone—dumbass got himself killed in a fight a couple days ago. Six feet under by now, probably.”

At first, the words don’t register. Then the meaning hits and she sinks to her knees, fingernails digging into her palms hard enough to break the skin. There’s an icy feeling building in her chest even as she searches frantically for any hint of Yamato’s familiar reiatsu and it isn’t until she scans the entire district for the fifth time that she begins to accept that Yamato ( _kind, funny Yamato who’d always looked out for her)_ isn’t coming back.

“Sayuri? What’s wrong?” Sousuke’s worried voice breaks her out of her daze and she looks up. At the sight of her expression, Sousuke flinches and she wonders what he sees in her face right now, if she looks as broken as she feels.

“Nothing, Sousuke.” Even she’s surprised at how steady her voice comes out. “Don’t worry about me. You should go to sleep—it’s getting late and you have another match tomorrow.”

That night, after her customary post-match portrait, she hesitates before taking out another sheet of paper. For the first time in months, she pours her entire soul into drawing, loses herself in every curve and line, in every stroke of the pencil because she may not have been able to help Yamato or save him or even be there for him in his last moments, but she can do this much for him, at least. Honor him in her own way, make sure he isn’t forgotten.

It isn’t until the next morning that she stops drawing. She stretches out her hands, ignoring the spikes of pain shooting through them, and reaches out to touch the finished portrait gently with her fingertips.

“Thank you. For all you’ve done,” Sayuri says quietly. “And…even if you’re gone, I just wanted to say that I haven’t forgotten my promise. I mean, looking back at it now, it seems stupid. Who’s to say I even have a heart at this point, right?” She lets out a choked laugh, thinking back to uncountable fights over the past few years, the thick stack of drawings in the corner of her room. How many people—adults and children alike—has she killed at this point? Dozens? Hundreds? “But if I do have some tiny piece of humanity left…this place has already taken so much from me, I don’t want it to take that too. And if I haven’t already ruined Sousuke’s innocence beyond repair…then I’ll do my best to protect that as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this story took a dark turn. Alternative name for this chapter could be ‘let’s see how much I can fuck up the twins’ lives more than I already have.’ Also, for those curious, at the end of this chapter I’d say the twins are about 4ish physically, maybe a bit older.  
> Finally, I’d say at this point Sayuri isn’t even thinking about the possibility of her brother growing up into THE Aizen Sousuke, mostly because she has bigger things to worry about right now. Starting with a whole lot of guilt due to the people she’s killed, more guilt because part of her is taking on responsibility for the people her brother has killed and for how Sousuke is turning out, additional guilt because she blames herself for the situation they’re in (for not being strong enough to escape and being too terrified of the consequences to try again), and finally, she feels guilty because she thinks she isn’t feeling guilty enough. Oh, and then there’s the fact that she’s dealing with a huge moral crisis on top of all that.  
> As always, if you have any questions, or just want to chat about the story, you can find me on tumblr (my username is cooliogirl101)!


	7. Breaking Free

_Sousuke and Sayuri come into Matsushita Ryuga’s care at the age of eight, and stay with him for nearly seven years. By the time they’re fourteen, both Sousuke and Sayuri have each killed over 200 people._

* * *

 

The first time Matsushita Ryuga watched the Aizen siblings perform, he was spellbound. He’d bought them on a whim, really; one of his men had mentioned some poor peasant woman who apparently wanted to foist her children off for a bit of cash and who was he to refuse? To be honest, he hadn’t expected much. After all, the kids were barely old enough to stand up and walk around, but he’d been intrigued by the report that the siblings were supposedly twins. Impossible to confirm and mostly likely a desperate ploy by the mother in an attempt to get more money (the thought of some random whore giving birth to _twins_ was laughable) but he’d thought it might be amusing to throw them in the ring anyway. It had been a while since they’d had participants this young, and he’d missed it.

(It’s almost funny the way they flail around and cry, so _confused_ as to why they’re being hurt. And there’s something absolutely mesmerizing about seeing soft skin split open, fragile bones crushed into the dirt even as tiny voices sob and beg for a mommy that won’t come.)

So when one of his guards shoved Aizen Sayuri into the ring, he’d sat down and prepared himself for an entertaining, if brief, show. And for a while, things had gone as expected. The girl was surprisingly adorable for a Rukongai brat, to his delight—brown wavy hair framing a face still chubby with baby fat, large dark eyes wide with confusion and apprehension, a soft, pouting mouth parted slightly as she took in the crowd around her. The first few seconds of the fight were as brutally one-sided as he’d predicted, but then…

To this day, Matsushita still doesn’t know what caused the girl to snap. All he knows is that one minute she was on the ground getting the life squeezed out of her and the next, her opponent was flying halfway across the arena. In the blink of an eye she was on him, shattering his skull in a stunning display of strength. She didn’t stop there either, continuing her assault until the boy’s head was nothing but reddish gray pulp, her own originally-white robe stained dark red and splattered with pieces of tissue and fat.

The next week, her brother enters the arena and kills his own opponent with a single punch. They become an instant sensation; Matsushita hasn’t earned so much money in years. There were a few mishaps near the beginning—a couple instances of insubordination and an escape attempt, which was only to be expected. Like any caring father, he disciplines them for it, ensures that they know they did something wrong, drives home the message that it won’t be tolerated again, and forgives them. After they prove their worth after the first year, he even starts throwing in a few fighting lessons from his guards to help them improve their performance.

He’s especially proud of little Sousuke. The first few years were beautiful in their own way, of course; unrestrained and wild in the way that only the desperate can manage. Once he started finding his rhythm though, well. The boy certainly knows how to play to an audience—toying with his prey, drawing out the fight, testing his limits even as he pushes his opponent past theirs and straight to the point of collapse. Although Sousuke is his favorite, Sayuri is a pleasure to watch as well. Her brother’s opposite on the battlefield, Sayuri favors quick and decisive kills, clean to the point where it’s a rare day she gets more than a speck or two of blood on her robes—a far cry from how she started out.

The thing they have in common, Matsushita thinks, that makes them so enthralling to watch, is how _easy_ they make it all seem. It’s true that he loves seeing people in the ring struggle, yes, likes watching human beings brought down to their basest instincts, but watching the Aizen siblings, whether it’s Sousuke’s crooked grin as he waves to the crowd or Sayuri’s penetrating, intense stare as she coolly sizes up an opponent…he can’t explain it, but it’s a bit like watching gods in the making.

* * *

 

_Two months before their fifteenth birthday, the twins are sold to Haruguchi Dan. They stay with him for six years and in that time, they have more than tripled their kill count. By their twentieth birthday, Sousuke has killed 690 people. Sayuri is right behind him at 688._

* * *

 

Buying the Aizen siblings, Haruguchi decides, was one of the best decisions of his life. They came at a hefty price, of course, which was only to be expected. To be honest, he’s rather surprised that he managed to convince Matsushita to sell them at all. He hadn’t thought that the greedy bastard would ever give up his two prized fighters.

When he’d asked Matsushita about it, the man had only chuckled.

 _Those kids may be my pride and joy, but I am first and foremost a businessman. That means I gotta calculate the risks against the benefits, and well…let me tell you, I ain’t planning to be anywhere within 5 districts of those two once they finally figure out how strong they really are._ He’d paused then, and the look he’d sent Haruguchi was almost pitying. _Word of advice. Keep them happy. You’ll be able to control them for a while by maintaining the illusion that you’re stronger than them, but that’ll only last so long. You’ve still got some time left since they’re so young, but…don’t make the mistake of thinking that just because they’re children, they’re in any way harmless._

 _Oh, come on. They’re kids,_ he’d scoffed. _No matter how strong they are, they’ve gotta have weaknesses._

 _Sure,_ Matsushita had agreed. _Only one that’s big enough to matter though._

_And what’s that?_

_Why, each other, of course._

He doesn’t bother following Matsushita’s advice. As far as he’s concerned, the man’s an idiot, and a coward to boot. Honestly, he had the kids for seven years and in that time, he never once had them fight together in a match. Although the siblings are fairly popular in certain circles already, their value goes through the roof as soon as he starts marketing them as twins, since they’re rare enough in the afterlife that people will pay triple just to see them perform together. Better yet, they’re good enough at this point that he can throw them in the ring with up to ten opponents without worrying about one of them getting accidentally killed off.

He does give them a two week break before fights however; the last thing he wants is them getting burned out. He also allows them each one hobby—drawing for the girl, and reading for the boy. He isn’t completely inhumane, after all.

* * *

 

Sometimes, Sayuri wonders if there is any of Lily left in her, if she retains any piece of the girl she once was—the trusting, kindhearted, empathetic girl who’d dreamed of helping people by becoming a doctor. She rather doubts it, although that brings up the question of when exactly she’d stopped being _Lily_ and had become _Sayuri_ (the girl who couldn’t look at someone without calculating the most efficient way of killing them first, who had long since stopped losing sleep at the thought of murder) instead. Was it after that first match? Or maybe it happened when she was shut away for two weeks in an underground prison, the mind-numbing fear and loneliness ( _nonono let me out_ please _I promise I won’t try to run away again just please please_ please _let me out_ ) suffocating all her dreams of escape. Or maybe it was when she’d started seeing people as obstacles rather than _people._

It’s just…it’s so _difficult_ to care and although she wants to, wants to keep her promise to Yamato, caring takes energy and she’s so tired these days. Most of the time, the only thing driving her to get out of bed is Sousuke and his requests to tell him a story, to help him learn his kanji, to play a game with him, and when she’s in the ring, the only thing stopping her from allowing an opponent’s knife to slip under her guard (so that everything will be over already and she can _rest)_ is her refusal to leave her brother behind. She won’t do that to him. She may be a monster but she will not allow herself to abandon Sousuke the way their mother abandoned them.

The worst days are the ones where she wonders if she’s even human anymore. After all, humans _feel,_ they hurt and bleed and cry and laugh, and Sayuri can’t even remember the last time she did any of that. She isn’t even sure if she _can_ do that at this point, feel more than a hollow emptiness inside her chest. Maybe that’s why she allows one of Haruguchi’s business associates to take her to bed.

When the man had pulled her aside on her way to the bathroom, one hand covering her mouth tightly while the other held a knife to her throat, she hadn’t even been surprised. Had been expecting it, even. She’s well aware of the lust people feel for her and her brother, has sensed their desire skittering at the edge of her awareness like ants crawling over her skin amidst the excitement and anticipation in the arena. It doesn’t bother her too much, as long as they keep away from Sousuke—despite how she looks, it’s not like she’s a child, after all, and these people already pay bucket-loads of money to see kids fight each other to death. What’s a few wandering hands in comparison to that?

This _is_ the first time someone has gone this far though, and she can’t deny that she feels a sick sort of curiosity as she’s pushed to the floor, rough hands already pawing at her clothes. Sex is one experience she’s never had before, and she wonders if it’ll hurt as badly as she’s heard it will.

“Not even going to fight back, huh?” The man—he sounds like a noble—grunts in her ear. “What, you really that dead inside? I’ve seen you in the fights; you don’t even bat an eye when you get hit. Haruguchi said that you were tame, but you actually don’t give a fuck about this, do you? That’s alright with me though. Saves me the trouble of breaking you myself.” He smiles cruelly, running a finger over her bare shoulder. When she still doesn’t react, something ugly flashes across his face before he continues. “Or is this something you actually want? No, I see how it is now. That’s right, you know you deserve this, don’t you? All those people you’ve killed…you’ve been a very bad girl,” he teases, hands caressing her sides, tweaking her non-existent breasts. “And girls like you don’t get nice things, like flowers and sweet words and pretty jewelry.” With one smooth movement, he rips Sayuri’s necklace off her and for the first time, Sayuri feels something twist inside her chest. “No, girls like you deserve to get hurt.”

He goes back to kissing her, grinding down on her as he bites her lips and invades her mouth with his tongue, but this time Sayuri kisses him back. He stiffens slightly in surprise but before he can pull away, she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him close.

“Maybe I do,” she murmurs against his lips. “But not like this.”

He jolts in her hold and she shoves him off her as his body goes suddenly limp. Glancing at the still-warm corpse next to her, Sayuri stares thoughtfully at the knife embedded in the base of his skull—she’d found it hidden in his robes and although it was a bit lavish for her tastes, the quality was obvious and there was no sense in wasting a decent weapon.

“Sorry, but I was a victim once,” she informs the body as she pulls the knife out with a wet _squelch,_ before picking up her necklace and slipping it into her pocket _._ “I won’t be one again.”

As she walks out the door, she feels lighter than she has in years.

* * *

 

Sneaking into Haruguchi’s private quarters when she can sense the location of each and every person in the building is child’s play. Sayuri can’t help but marvel how _easy_ everything is. She hasn’t allowed herself to think of escaping since her first and only attempt, but surely things shouldn’t be this simple, should they?

She estimates that she has maybe two hours before anyone discovers the body she hid. That’s fine—two hours is more than enough time.

It isn’t long until Haruguchi stumbles into the room, reeking of sake with two giggling prostitutes on either side of him. He stops dead at the sight of her, confusion plain in his demeanor.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He slurs. “Get the fuck out of here!”

“Did you send him after me?” She asks, ignoring him.

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“That noble. Did you give him permission to have sex with me?” Sayuri asks mildly. “Answer the question, Haruguchi-sama.” He stills and the barest hint of trepidation flickers through his reiatsu.

“So what if I did? He gave me a good price,” Haruguchi says defiantly. “You…you did give him a good time, right? He’s one of my best sponsors and I owed him a favor.”

“Oh, I daresay he won’t be complaining to anyone anytime soon,” Sayuri replies pleasantly, twirling her new knife around. Haruguchi’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth, but before he can shout for any of his guards, Sayuri tackles him to the floor and wraps a hand around his throat. “Make a sound and I’ll slit your throat right now,” she says evenly, before looking towards the prostitutes.

“That goes for you too. And don’t even try making a run for it. I guarantee that however fast you are, I’m faster.” Sayuri pauses for a moment. “Besides, I’m sure you both know how much Haruguchi-sama enjoys an audience. It would be dreadfully rude of you not to provide him with one. Now, sit down, do as I say, and I promise I’ll let you leave unharmed.”

“What—why are you doing this?” Haruguchi croaks, face pale with fear. She can see the realization dawning in his eyes and she feels a rush of vicious satisfaction at the desperation she can sense in his reiatsu.

“I suppose I’ve just had a wakeup call. Besides, I’ve recently discovered that it’s much more enjoyable to kill someone of my own volition than it is to kill someone on another person’s orders. I suppose I should thank you for your part in that. I don’t think I’ve felt this alive in years,” Sayuri murmurs, digging her nails into his jugular. Behind her, one of the prostitutes starts crying but she ignores them. What does she have to cry about? It’s not like she’s the one getting hurt. “Now, I normally don’t like to draw out my kills but I think with you, I’ll make an exception.”

“Wait, no! You—you can’t do this,” he gasps out, straining against her hold.

“Can’t I?” She asks softly, cocking her head to the side. “You seem to be under the impression that you’re still in control here. Please, allow me to disabuse you of that notion.”

* * *

 

Sousuke must sense her approach because she can feel him stop pacing and run to the door. His reiatsu is a tangled mess of agitation and confusion and when she steps inside, he doesn’t waste any time in rushing to her side.

“ _Where were you?”_ He demands, before her appearance registers and his eyes widen in shock. “Why are you covered in blood? Are you hurt?” He scans her over quickly and when he can’t find any sign of injury, he turns his attention back to her face, eyes oddly intent. “Sayuri, what did you _do?”_

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” she replies, feeling strangely calm. She’s prepared for an onslaught of questions, but instead he pauses for a long moment, his reiatsu probing hers tentatively. When he looks up again, there’s an almost hungry expression on his face.

“You’re happy,” Sousuke murmurs, a kind of quiet awe in his voice. “You…you haven’t been happy in…”

“Not now. We have to go—Haruguchi’s dead,” she interrupts him. Her brother glances at her sharply, eyes skimming over her blood-soaked clothes, and puts two and two together.

“I don’t need anything,” he says, before glancing at the stacks and stacks of portraits lining the back wall of the room. “Sayuri—?”

She looks over there as well, biting her lips in hesitation. Finally, she runs over and grabs two portraits—carefully set aside from the rest—and shoves them into her yukata, before turning to her brother.

“Sousuke, do you remember that trick we figured out last week? With the fire?” She asks. He blinks in surprise.

“Sure,” he answers, snapping his fingers and calling a small flame to his fingertips. She smiles and motions towards the stacks of paper.

“Would you care to do the honors, then?”

 

* * *

 

Later, as they watch the building go up in flames from a safe distance away, Sousuke leans against her side, slipping his hand into hers.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to keep your pictures,” he murmurs.

“It’s okay,” she says, as thick black smoke billows up towards the sky. “I don’t think they’d have minded us using their pictures for this.”

“Does this mean we’re free then?”

Sayuri is silent for a moment, thinking over the past twelve years of her life. Honestly, it still seems so surreal. Haruguchi has controlled every aspect of their lives for the past six years—he’s decided what they eat, when they sleep, what forms of entertainment they’re allowed, who they kill, and how they’re punished—and for him to be _dead…_

It seems stupid, but looking back, a part of her has always believed him to be…invincible, is the only way she can describe it. Certainly untouchable. In fact, had she not made that split second decision to kill her would-be rapist, she never would have developed the nerve or the motivation to confront him—after all, the most he’d done to her before then was shove her in the ring, and she hadn’t really cared about that by the time she came into his care. What was killing a few more people when she’d already killed hundreds, after all? But now, with him gone…

“Yeah,” she says finally, squeezing her brother’s hand tightly. “We’re free.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me writing this chapter: Now what would a psychopath do in this situation, now what would a psychopath think in this situation, oh my god I’m becoming a psychopath.  
> Poor Sayuri and Sousuke. By the time they got strong enough to do anything about their situation, they were already too indifferent to even try. And Sayuri…she’s not actively suicidal, but a part of her does believe that she deserves to be hurt for her actions. That necklace kind of showed her that she was becoming a (more murderous) version of her mother, and well…she loves Shiori in her own way, but she hates her too. And Shiori’s one of the last people she wants to resemble in any way.  
> (Also FYI, before writing this chapter, I hadn’t realized how terrifying I’d make Sayuri turn out. Kissing someone just to distract them so she can murder them in cold blood? He deserved it, but still. Yikes).  
> Oh, and if any of you were confused, the two portraits she kept were of Lily and Yamato. As far as she’s concerned, they’re the only two people she really wants to remember. The twins are also physically around 7 at the end of this chapter.  
> Gonna be another long wait before I can write again. School’s started and I already kinda want to die.


	8. Cracked Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler chapter, and formatted a bit weirdly in that while the present-parts occur in chronological order, the flashbacks go progressively further back in time.

“So what now?” Sousuke asks, hours after charred ruins are all that remain of where they once lived (not home, it was never a home—he’s learned by now that a home is a person, not a place). Sayuri leans against his side and he automatically wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“Well,” she murmurs, a wistful note in her voice. “You always wanted to see the world, right? I figure we should probably get started on that—especially since we have twenty years of catching up to do.”

“Three-hundred and twenty districts. Where do you want to start?” Sousuke asks. To be honest, he doesn’t really care about exploring the various districts of the afterlife. The last time he wished his world was bigger, he’d ended up nearly losing the only person who made his world worth living in. What he _does_ care about is that this is the first time in years he’s seen her this excited about something. The first time in years that he feels like he really, truly has his sister back again.

“Doesn’t matter. As long as it’s away from here,” Sayuri replies. Sousuke turns to look at her thoughtfully.

“You’re not nervous? After all, neither of us knows what’s out there,” he points out. At that, she tilts her head up towards the sky.

“What’s there to be afraid about? Monsters?” Sayuri lets out a slightly bitter laugh. “Please. If they have any sense, they’ll be afraid of _us.”_

* * *

 

 _“What is_ wrong _with you?” The man shrieks, hastily backing away towards the fence._ Beginner’s mistake, _Sousuke thinks dispassionately. Given that he was a grown man, Sousuke would’ve thought he’d know better than to let himself get cornered like that._

_“You’re sick! All of you!” Curiously enough, the man doesn’t seem to be yelling at him and Sayuri. No, he keeps turning towards the crowd, while desperately trying to keep an eye on Sousuke and his sister at the same time. Sousuke doesn’t know why he bothers—it’s obviously a futile endeavor. In fact, if Haruguchi hadn’t specifically requested that they draw this fight out a little longer, the man would be dead already._

_“They’re_ children, _for god’s sake!” He yells, spittle flying from his mouth. He still isn’t fighting back. While he isn’t the first to show hesitation in the ring, he_ is _the first to outright refuse to fight them, and Sousuke wonders why. Doesn’t he understand the rules of the game?_

_“Oh god…” The man finally turns to face them fully. His eyes are wide with fear, sweat trickling down his face, and Sousuke doesn’t need his sister’s skill at analyzing reiatsu to know that the man is terrified. Despite that, his words are oddly earnest. “Please, no, you don’t have to do this. It’s going to be okay, I…I have friends and they’re looking for me right now, just put down the knife. Put down the knife and I swear, when they get here I’ll get you both out of this hellhole, to somewhere safe, away from these bastards and—”_

_Out of the corner of his eye, Sousuke can see Haruguchi motioning at him impatiently, a signal that he’s tired of the fight and wants them to get on with it in an appropriately bloody manner. He’s about to move but before he can, there’s a flash of movement by his right. The next moment, there’s a sickening snap_ _echoing through the air and the man’s eyes glaze over, his neck now at a grotesquely unnatural angle._

_Sousuke watches as Sayuri lowers the corpse carefully to the ground, her movements almost gentle._

_“Haruguchi-sama won’t be happy,” he says as he walks up to her. “You ended it too quickly. He wanted to have fun with this one.”_

_“I know,” she says quietly, gazing down at the cooling body in her arms. He can see her scanning every inch of the man’s face. Memorizing it._

_“You won’t get dinner again,” Sousuke warns. He doesn’t understand why she insists on doing stuff like this when she_ knows _she’ll get punished for it._

_“I don’t care. The guy’s dead, isn’t he? Then I don’t see what Haruguchi-sama has to complain about,” she says, her voice cooling a fraction. “He told me to kill him, and I did as he asked. How I choose to do so is my business.” Sousuke is quiet for a moment._

_“If you had a problem with this one, I would’ve done it,” he says. He means it too. While he doesn’t exactly_ like _getting his hands dirty, he also doesn’t mind it the way his sister does. She’s better now than she was in the beginning, but despite what Sayuri herself thinks, she’s never managed to be entirely indifferent. The hours she pours into her drawings—it’s almost eerie how realistic they are, her opponents’ last emotions immortalized in thick, black charcoal strokes against a white paper background—are proof enough of that._

 _From the beginning, she’s always been just a little too kind, a touch too empathetic for this world of theirs and it shows in the way a part of her dies each time she takes another life. Her compassion used to irritate him (because it’s an aspect of his sister that he doesn’t understand,_ can’t _understand) but it doesn’t anymore; he’s accepted that it’s just a part of who she is._

_Besides, he can be ruthless for her._

 

* * *

 

Out of all the questions he’s asked, there’s only one that Sayuri has refused to answer, and that is _how do you know so much?_

In the beginning, he hadn’t thought it strange. Sayuri has always been that way, after all; more like an adult than a child, and adults knew all kinds of stuff so why wouldn’t she? But the thing is, no matter how she behaves Sayuri _isn’t_ an adult and by now Sousuke knows that there are things people don’t learn without being taught first. And he’s been with her every step of the way—he _knows_ that their mother never taught her about how birds and how they can fly because their wings are hollow, about fish and how they use gills to breathe, about why the leaves change color and how babies are made and how white light is actually made up of seven colors, which is why rainbows form (he would have dismissed it as Sayuri making stuff up, but her explanations make _sense_ and so far, everything he’s observed seems to confirm her words).

At least she doesn’t pretend that her knowledge is normal, or try to lie to him (although, Sousuke thinks grumpily, answering “I won’t lie to you” and then refusing to speak any further on the subject isn’t much better). After the first three times he asks doesn’t get any results, Sousuke decides to change tactics. If she won’t tell him, he’ll just have to find out himself. He already has years’ worth of clues—the way she sometimes mutters in strange, nonsensical, foreign syllables, the wistful, almost nostalgic expression that crosses her face when she comes across seemingly random objects, the way their own mother used to regard Sayuri’s maturity with unease.

Still, it isn’t until two years after leaving the ring that he finally comes across a possible explanation. He’d been looking through a bookstore (a rare sight this far out in the Rukongai) for a present to give Sayuri when he’d found an old book full of theories of what happened to a soul after they died in the afterlife.

Three days later, on their twenty-second birthday he wakes up to find what looks like a handmade book by his bed.

“They’re illustrations. To your favorite stories,” Sayuri explains, a touch of pride in her voice as he flips to a page with the twin gods Artemis and Apollo hunting side by side. Sun and moon, forever chasing each other, each lighting up the sky in their own way. It’s a while before he can tear his eyes away.

“I got you something too,” Sousuke says, reaching underneath his pillow and pulling out a handmade book of his own. “You’re always telling me stories, so I figured I’d write you one myself. Go ahead—read it.”

It’s short, just a few pages long, and it doesn’t take her long to skim through it. He keeps his eyes locked on her face the entire time, drinking in her expressions, the way her eyes widen slightly in shock as she reads the story of an unnamed girl, killed before her time only to be reincarnated into a world twice as cruel. By the time she finishes, her shoulders are stiff and she refuses to meet his eyes.

An odd smile tugs at his lips as he stands up and walks behind her. Leaning down, he rests one hand on her shoulder, his grip just a shade too tight.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers into her ear. “I won’t ask. It doesn’t matter who you used to be anyway—you’re _my_ sister now.”

He thinks back to the way she used to look at him, like she was seeing the ghost of someone else in his place. He still doesn’t know who he reminds her of, but he finds that the thought bothers him less than it used to. After all, he’s here, they aren’t, and memories are fragile, memories of people even more so—unlike facts or figures, the vast majority of people are transient. Sooner or later he’ll erase them from Sayuri’s mind, and he’s in no rush. He has eternity, after all.  

 

* * *

 

_“Sousuke, don’t even think about it,” Sayuri orders without looking up. Sousuke pouts, straightening up from his crouch._

_“You’re no fun,” he complains, sulking. “And it’s totally unfair that you can predict what a person’s gonna do without even looking at it.” He pauses and Sayuri stiffens warily, no doubt sensing his shift in intent through his reiatsu. “Of course, just ‘cuz you can sense it coming, doesn’t mean you can dodge it.”_

_“Wait Sousuke, don’t you dare—” Sayuri yelps, the rest of her words cut off as Sousuke tackles her and they go down in a pile of flailing limbs._

_“You—little—brat,” she huffs, elbowing him half-heartedly in the ribs. He lets out a breathless laugh, even as he manages to pin her down._

_“I win!” He crows as he straddles her stomach, bouncing up and down._

_“I regret the day you learned to walk,” Sayuri mutters irritably, but doesn’t try to shove him off. He offers her a sunny smile, shifting so that he’s lying down next to her._

_“You don’t mind. Admit it, you were just as bored as I was,” Sousuke says cheekily, before rolling over so that he’s staring at the ceiling. “Sucks that we don’t have a match ‘til next week, huh? At least that’d give us something to do, for a short while at least. Who knows, we might even get someone who’s a bit of a challenge, although given how disappointing our last few fights were…”_

_“Don’t say that. It’s disrespectful,” Sayuri scolds, although he can tell it’s more out of habit than anything else._

_“What’s the big deal? What, you want me to lie and say that each of our opponents are_ special _? You saw how those girls from last time were—too busy sniveling and crying to even pick up a weapon. They’re all the same,” Sousuke snorts. “Weak. If they couldn’t even defend their lives, then they deserved to die.”_

_“Mmm. And what happens if one day, we come across someone who’s stronger? And I lose? What then?” Sayuri asks shrewdly. “Are you saying that I’d deserve to die?”_

_“That’s different,” he says, looking away. “Besides, it’s not gonna happen.”_

_“No?” She asks, wry amusement flickering across her face. “Sousuke, you can’t guarantee that.”_

_“Yeah I can,” he insists stubbornly. “I’ll just be like that one guy in the stories…what’s his name again? Hercules? The one who fought off death itself when it came for that king? Well, if death ever comes for either of us I’ll just punch it in the face. That’ll show him.”_

_Sayuri laughs softly and turns to face him. “I’m not sure that’s how it works, hero.”_

_He shrugs. “Why not? It’s just another opponent, after all.”_

* * *

 

The first time Sousuke sees a shinigami, he doesn’t manage to get more than a second’s glimpse before Sayuri’s suddenly there and dragging him away. She doesn’t stop until she deems that they’ve gone a safe distance—which, in Sayuri’s terms, means that they’ve crossed half the district—after which Sousuke yanks his hand out of hers with an annoyed grunt.

“What’d you do that for?” He complains, glaring at her.

“Making sure you didn’t do anything stupid like go up to them and ask to see their sword,” Sayuri says dryly. At her words, Sousuke flushes.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he says sullenly. At the very least, he would have phrased it in a less ambiguous way without the sexual implications. Sayuri sighs and her face softens a little.

“Hey,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry, okay? I just didn’t want you near them.”

“Why not? What, you scared of them too?” Sousuke scoffs.

“Yes,” Sayuri admits, which surprises him. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen her scared, _really_ scared, of something. “I don’t know enough about their skills to guarantee who’d win in a fight between us. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me feel uncomfortable.”

“That’s why you don’t like them? They make you nervous?” Sousuke asks, observing her closely. Sayuri pauses for a moment.

“I don’t like anyone I consider a potential threat. I acknowledge that it’s highly unlikely a shinigami would publically attack two random kids out of the blue, but it bothers me that they _could,_ if they wanted to, and no one would stop them. The fact that the system is set up so that they protect us from things like hollows, and yet no system is set up to protect us from _them.”_ Sousuke watches her for another moment before reaching out to squeeze her hand.

“If it bothers you that much, I won’t go near them again,” he offers, carefully hiding his disappointment. As he watches relief flash across her features, he decides that it’s worth it.

 

* * *

 

To his credit, Sousuke does try to stay away whenever he senses a shinigami. Key word being _try._ But curiosity is a strong thing and before long, he finds himself actively seeking out any unusually strong reiatsu presences nearby. By the third time Sayuri catches him spying on a shinigami from a rooftop, she sighs and leaves him to it.

The problem is, he’s only satisfied with watching at a distance for so long. Ironically, it’s partly Sayuri’s fault—he can’t get her words from the first time he saw a shinigami out of his head _(I don’t know enough about their skills to guarantee who’d win in a fight between us)_ and it irritates him like an itch he can’t scratch. He has no idea how he’d fare against a shinigami ( _with their beautiful, deadly blades flashing like quicksilver, slicing through flesh and bone as easily as paper)_ and he _hates_ it. It isn’t long before he starts choosing someone to test himself against.

He doesn’t tell Sayuri.

 _It’s better this way,_ he rationalizes as he watches his target enter a bar. _You know she worries too much and if she doesn’t know, she won’t become stressed and better yet, she won’t try to stop you._

After about half an hour, he watches two more shinigami join the first one and has to bite his lip to swallow his disappointment. Still, Sousuke continues watching and about an hour later his patience pays off when one of the shinigami separates from the other two, arm around one of the prostitutes that frequent the bars. Anticipation rising within him, he heads off after the lone shinigami—he isn’t too concerned about the girl; if she’s smart, she’ll know to run and if she isn’t, he’ll just kill her too.

He never even sees the attack coming.

With a grunt of surprise, he falls to the ground, arms bound to his side by glowing ropes of energy. A sandaled foot kicks him harshly in the ribs and he has to clench his jaws together to stop himself from crying out in pain.

“Sorry to interrupt your date, but this kid’s been following us for the past hour and I figured it’d be rude to continue to ignore him,” one of the shinigami—the one Sousuke was originally following—says lazily, prodding Sousuke’s cheek with his toe. He leans down and studies Sousuke thoughtfully; it’s the same expression Sayuri wears right before she’s about to kill someone and Sousuke doubles his efforts to escape his bonds. He doesn’t bother trying to shout for help; there’s only one person who would help him right now and he doesn’t want her to come. Doesn’t want Sayuri to see him like this—helpless and pathetic and about to be killed due to his own reckless arrogance. “You must be a special brand of stupid to follow a death god. Hoping to rob my friend here, perhaps?”  

“Oh come on Fukuyama, let him go already. You’re really gonna waste your time with a dumb brat?” His companion complains. Despite his tone though, Sousuke can detect a hint of nervousness in his posture. “There’s a bar nearby that I heard was good.”

“Just a minute, Nogi.” Fukuyama looks up and glances at the man standing next to the prostitute. “Oi Matsuda, get over here.” When he doesn’t move, Fukuyama scoffs impatiently. “This kid was planning on robbing you, you really gonna let that go? Come on, don’t you want to teach him a lesson? We can’t have brats running around without proper manners, after all.”

Matsuda hesitates for a moment and then shakes his head, taking a step back. “Nah, you seem to have things handled. I think I’m gonna head back, think I drank too much.”

“Suit yourself,” Fukuyama murmurs as he traces Sousuke’s features with his knife. Despite himself, Sousuke squeezes his eyes shut and turns his face away, willing himself not to cry. It was one of the first lessons Sayuri had taught him in the ring ( _it’s okay to cry—it means that you’re human, after all. Just not where they can see. No matter what, never let them know that they hurt you)_ and he’s failed her once already tonight; the least he can do is try not to fail her again.

“You know, you’re not bad looking for a Rukongai brat,” Fukuyama hums and there’s something different about his voice now, something dark and almost hungry and—“Oh, I’m going to _enjoy_ this.”

“If you’re looking to teach him some manners, I’m afraid it’s a lost cause,” a familiar voice says casually, causing Sousuke’s eyes to shoot open. “I’ve been trying for years, with no success.” Sayuri shrugs nonchalantly as she steps out from the shadows. Her reiatsu is muted, no more noticeable than the average civilian’s, and Sousuke’s not surprised that the shinigami didn’t sense her.

“Forgive my brother.” Her gaze flickers to him and their eyes only meet for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough. “He’s always been too curious for his own good and shinigami seem to be his latest object of interest.”

“And you, my dear?” Fukuyama asks, rising to his feet. There’s a gleam in his eyes that Sousuke doesn’t like. “Do you share his interest?”

“I suppose,” Sayuri says. She tilts her head slightly to the side, the action exposing her neck the barest bit. “I’ve heard that a shinigami’s power is concentrated in his sword. Is that true?”

“I could give you a demonstration, if you want,” Fukuyama says softly. The sound of a sword being withdrawn from its sheath makes Sousuke flinch—he knows it’s part of the plan, that it’s a game they’ve played a hundred times against a hundred opponents, for one of them to act as the distraction while the other one attacks from the shadows, but he’s never been comfortable with Sayuri playing the role of the diversion.

Part of it’s because it’s undoubtedly the riskier of the two parts. Part of it’s because she always seems to get hurt when she does it.

Mostly, it’s because he doesn’t think she cares.

“Fukuyama,” Nogi begins uneasily.

“Shut up and watch over the other brat,” Fukuyama snaps without turning around, his attention now wholly focused on Sayuri. He has her backed up against a wall now, the side of his blade pressing into the skin of her neck. “Would you like that, sweetheart? I could slice you in half with this sword, you know,” he says, tone almost conversational. “Lop your cute little head right off. Show you how powerful a real shinigami is.”

“How very impressive,” Sayuri replies, her tone implying the exact opposite. If Sousuke didn’t know any better, he’d say she was almost bored. “There’s just one thing that has me a little confused though. You claim to be a death god but all the stories say that shinigami are dangerous, something to be feared, and…” Her voice trails off as she gives Fukuyama a quick once-over. “I confess, I’m just not seeing it.” Fukuyama blinks, and Sousuke can tell that he’s taken aback but trying not to show it.

“What are you talking about?” He asks. Sayuri smiles blandly.

“See, I’m trying to understand why such a strong, _powerful_ shinigami—the stuff of legends, if rumor is to be believed—would try so hard to intimidate mere children. You didn’t even attack my brother head on, you tied him up first. Hardly the actions of an honorable warrior, wouldn’t you agree? Now, when I saw you in this alley, I thought that I’d be meeting a fighter, but…” She shakes her head. “If all shinigami are like this, I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed.”

“I hardly think you’re in a position to insult me right now,” Fukuyama says, starting to look irritated. “You’re a chatty one, aren’t you? We’ll see if you’re so confident after I rip your tongue—”

“Or maybe you’re just an exception?” Sayuri wonders, completely ignoring the way the cut on her throat is now oozing blood. She refocuses on Fukuyama, eyes widening in faux realization. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re not a real shinigami.” She pauses for a moment. “Is that why your sword feels empty?” That, at least, seems to strike a nerve because Sousuke can see Fukuyama’s shoulders stiffen as his reiatsu spikes with rage.

“Shut up,” he growls, leaning in closer. “Shut up, shut up, _shut up—”_

“What? The truth too much for you to handle?” Sayuri laughs, a bit breathily now that the pressure against her throat starts cutting into her airflow. Sousuke clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath in an attempt to focus his reiatsu enough to snap the bonds. “How about this, then?” She shifts and Sousuke can’t tell what she’s doing from his angle, but it causes Fukuyama’s reiatsu to go dangerously still. “I’m curious—have your, ah, _preferences_ always leaned towards the younger end of the spectrum? Or did they only shift that way after you figured out that no one would ever want you? What is it about children that turns you on, exactly?” Sayuri’s voice drops to barely above a whisper. “Their vulnerability? Or simply the fact that they aren’t able to say no?”

“Stop,” Fukuyama grits out and for the first time, he takes a step back. “Stop it.”

“What’s wrong?” Sayuri coos, her tone almost predatory. “Don’t you like to be touched this way? I don’t understand; it’s what you’ve wanted from the moment you laid eyes on me, right?”

 “You don’t…you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammers. “You…you don’t know when to shut up, do you? Too stupid to even know when you should be scared—”

“Scared? Of what? _You?”_ Sayuri laughs disbelievingly and leans back, voice laced with scorn. “Of a man so very _desperate_ to affirm his own masculinity and yet so weak, so _pathetic_ that he has to resort to preying on children half his size to do so? Because that’s the only people you can win against, right? Untrained, unarmed _children_.” A mockery of a smile curves her lips. “I must applaud you, Fukuyama-san. Had I been in your place, I would have committed seppuku years ago, if only to spare my family the shame.”

“I’ll kill you,” he hisses out suddenly, humiliation and shame abruptly replaced by rage. “You fucking bitch, I—”

“So do it,” Sayuri taunts. “Kill me. Being a coward only capable of targeting those defenseless _is_ your area of expertise, is it not?”

At that moment, the bonds finally weaken enough for Sousuke to break them with a burst of reiatsu and he tackles Nogi to the ground before the other shinigami has time to even blink in surprise.

“Wha—” Fukuyama begins, startled, just as Sousuke finishes crushing Nogi’s trachea. The moment of distraction costs him because the instant he turns to look, Sayuri grips the blade with one hand and pushes it away. She then ducks under it to elbow Fukuyama hard in the stomach and proceeds to slam her fist into the underside of his chin, sending his head flying back. He’s only disoriented for a moment but before he can do anything but raise his sword, Sousuke yanks Nogi’s zanpakuto out of its sheath and rams it into Fukuyama’s back, through his heart.

For a moment, he and Sayuri just stare at the two dead bodies in front of them. Then—

“Took you long enough,” Sayuri comments, her voice deceptively casual as she kneels down and starts rooting through Fukuyama’s pockets.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be quicker next time, I promise.” He hesitates for a second. “You alright?”

“I’ll live,” she says curtly, humming in satisfaction upon finding a decent-sized bag of kan in Fukuyama’s clothes. “You start on the other one.”

 “You…you’re hurt,” he says softly, staring at the cut on her left palm, the jagged red slash on her neck. “Here, let me—” She yanks her hand out of his reach and he steps dead in his tracks, a feeling of dread rising in his stomach.

“Sayuri?” He asks uncertainly.

“I’ll take care of it. You’ve done enough,” she says coldly. He flinches.  

“You’re angry,” he whispers, voice cracking. “No, _of course_ you’re angry, I never should have gone after them and I…I’m so sorry. I…I don’t know what I was thinking, I should’ve listened to you and—”

With a tired sigh, Sayuri turns to look at him. “Yes, you should’ve but that’s not why I’m upset. You’ve never been able to resist a challenge—it’s not in your nature. I knew it was only a matter of time before you sought them out.” Sousuke blinks in confusion.

“Then why—?”

“Because you didn’t _tell_ me,” Sayuri snaps. “No, instead you waited until I was asleep and then went after them by yourself like some kind of—” She cuts herself off and takes a deep breath. “We’re a _team,_ Sousuke. We look out for each other, and I can’t have your back if you don’t even tell me what you’re up to. What you did tonight, it shows me that you don’t trust me.”

“That’s not true!” He blurts out, stricken. “And I’m—”

“Don’t.” She says, cutting him off. “I don’t need your apology. Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t. Pinky promise,” he says earnestly, holding up his right pinky. “It’ll be rule number three. Never hide things from each other. Right behind ‘no leaving’ and ‘no lying.’” Sayuri’s expression softens.

“I like that rule,” she says quietly as she links her finger with his. Sousuke stays silent for a moment before he adds, “You…you shouldn’t have put yourself at risk like that. I mean, for all you knew I wouldn’t be able to break the bonds.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t just leave you, could I?” She says sharply. “Besides, I knew you’d break through the spell eventually. For all that Fukuyama was a trained shinigami, he only had about three-quarters of the reiatsu you do and—”

“A battle between souls is a battle between spiritual pressures. I know,” Sousuke finishes. “Still, he could have _killed_ you.” And that…that terrifies him more than anything else. That Sayuri could be _dead_ right now due to his weakness.

“Oh, I rather doubt that. People like Fukuyama, they’re only able to kill those afraid of them. Without that fear, they’re nothing,” Sayuri says dismissively before glancing at him. “So, you finally got your wish. You faced off against a real shinigami. Did it meet your expectations?” When he doesn’t answer, she adds casually, “Well if you’re still interested, we do have two swords at our disposal. I’m sure their previous owners wouldn’t mind you tak—”

“No,” he answers without hesitation. “I don’t want them. Either of them.” Sayuri glances at him in surprise.

“Are you sure? It’d be a good weapon—” Sousuke scoffs.

“Nogi was a weak-willed, spineless follower with no mind of his own; why would I want _his_ sword?” Sousuke asks disdainfully. “As for Fukuyama…” He glances back towards where the zanpakuto is lying next to its fallen owner, its edge still glistening with red, and his expression hardens. “His sword was used to threaten you. To hurt you. I don’t care how powerful it is, I’d sooner shatter it into pieces than use it.”

 

* * *

 

_“Sa-Sayuri, I can’t…” Gasping, he releases his sister’s hand and doubles over in a futile attempt to catch his breath. Pain radiates out from his ribs and he falls to his knees, unable to support himself. Dimly, he can hear Sayuri urging him to get up, to run, telling him that they need to hurry if they don’t want to get caught, but all he can focus on is the throbbing in his chest._

_“It…it hurts,” he sobs between heaving breaths. “It hurts.”_

_“I know, hero, I know,” Sayuri says, her voice pained. She brushes his hair out of his eyes and he leans into her touch with a sigh. “But you need to get up. We just have to run for a little longer, okay? Just far enough that they won’t catch us. Can you do that for me?”_

_He nods and manages to stagger to his feet and take one wobbly step forward before collapsing again. This time, he can hear shouts and footsteps and dogs barking in the distance and he doesn’t need Sayuri’s skill in sensing reiatsu to know that they’re close. He also knows that he’s not going anywhere._

_Sayuri seems to have come to the same conclusion as him because she glances at him, indecisiveness flashing through her eyes. In a sudden fit of panic, he reaches out to grasp her, clutching her hands in a death grip._

_“Don’t leave me,” he begs, because he knows that if she left him, she could make it. She may be his age but she’s smart and she_ knows _things and she’s good enough at sensing people that Sousuke doubts anyone, even Matsushita, could ever find her if she didn’t want them to. “Please don’t go. I don’t wanna be alone.”_

_She doesn’t answer, just looks up at the sky and he watches as the last of her bravado evaporates from her face, leaving only a terrible longing behind. For one terrifying moment he thinks she’s going to continue running (that she’s going to disappear from his grasp, and vanish from his life forever) but then she smiles, a twisted curve of her lips that doesn’t seem to fit quite right on her face._

_“What do you mean you want to go back?” She asks suddenly, raising her voice. “No, come on, don’t be stupid, we have to keep moving forward!” Sousuke blinks in confusion._

_“Sayuri, what are you—”_

_“What do you mean it was a stupid idea in the first place? How can you say that?” She continues loudly, and no, that wasn’t right because while Sayuri had come up with the plan to escape in the first place, Sousuke had been just as enthusiastic about it. After all, his injuries were the whole reason behind why they’d decided to move the plan up—that, and the fact that he had a match scheduled for the next day in which he’d be expected to fight while recovering from two broken ribs._

_“No, don’t go! You can’t leave me!” She pleads and the echo of his own words stuns him silent even as Matsushita’s guards finally catch up with them. The last thing he sees before he’s knocked out is the resigned look in Sayuri’s eyes just before she throws herself at the nearest guard like a crazed animal, kicking and biting and screaming, screaming, screaming._

* * *

 

_He doesn’t fully understand Sayuri’s actions until he wakes up back in their cell and Sayuri’s not there. For the next week he’s given only one meal a day instead of two and his reading privileges taken away, but for the most part he’s treated like normal (maybe even better than normal, since he’s given some time for his ribs to recover)._

_It takes two weeks before Sayuri’s returned to him._

_When she comes back, it takes him a moment to recognize her and he has to swallow back bile when he realizes that the skeletal figure in front of him—with the stringy, oily hair, sickly pale skin, and hollow cheeks, half her fingernails torn off—is his sister. Worst of all though are her eyes._

_Sayuri’s eyes have always been the most expressive part of her. The way they’d sparkle when she was amused, lighten when she was happy, darken when she was upset, and cloud over when she was sad…they were the most reliable way of reading her. Now though, they’re blank. Empty. Dead._

_It takes an entire month before he’s able to look her in the eyes without flinching. In that time, he makes a promise to himself—that he’ll do whatever it takes to restore the light to them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like something about this chapter? Then please leave me a review :D  
> (I do hope I managed to flesh out the twins’ personalities a bit more.)


	9. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to recap, because Bleach aging is weird: the twins stayed with their mother until they were about 8 years old, at which time they looked roughly 3. They fought in gladiator-type arenas up until age 20, at which point they looked about 6. Last chapter took place between the years of 20-23, so they still looked about 6. This chapter starts about 6 years after the last one, so I'd say they look roughly 7. However, their physical age is in no way a reflection of their actual abilities, because this is Bleach in which having the strength to topple buildings is a pretty normal thing apparently.
> 
> (Also when going through the reviews I found it really funny that most of you seem to refer to Sousuke as 'Aizen' because technically both twins are Aizen? But anyway, on to the story).

Shunsui’s initial impression of Aizen Sousuke is something along the lines of ‘kid’s got balls.’ Given that his first encounter with the boy happens right after the kid makes off with one of his officers’ wallets, it’s not an inaccurate assessment.

“Ow, you jerk! Lemme go!” Shunsui stops in his tracks at the sight of one of his newest seated officers holding a boy up by the front of his shirt and barely manages to hold back an exasperated sigh. He’d known that Hideaki-kun had a temper, but for him to blatantly threaten a child, and in such a public place too…

“Thought you could rob me and get away with it, huh? Thought you could outrun me? Hah!” Hideaki scoffs, shaking the boy roughly.

“Please, shinigami-sama, let my brother go. He didn’t mean anything by it,” a girl, about the same age as the boy, begs. Closer inspection reveals that she looks too similar to the boy for them not to be related, causing Shunsui to lift his eyebrows in faint surprise. Then again, while blood-related siblings in the Rukongai are uncommon, they’re certainly not unheard of.

“Maa, maa, Hideaki-kun,” Shunsui says mildly, sauntering up to the scene. At his appearance, Hideaki startles and immediately drops the boy in his grasp. Out of the corner of his eye, he notes that the girl automatically angles her body so that she’s standing between Shunsui and the boy, which is…interesting. For a shinigami to categorize him as the biggest threat is one thing, but for a civilian girl to do so? At a time when he isn’t carrying his zanpakuto, has his reiatsu suppressed, and is wearing a pink kimono to boot? It’s unexpected, to say the least.

Shaking it off, he turns back to his officer. “I gave you some time off to relax, have fun before we have to head back home, and what do you do? Is resorting to such measures really necessary?”

“I—no, taicho,” Hideaki mumbles, embarrassment and resentment plain in his features. Smiling cheerfully, Shunsui turns back to the pair of children and holds out one hand.

“It’s not nice to steal,” he chides, careful not make it sound like a threat. “Cute children like yourself shouldn’t be doing something so dangerous. You could get hurt, you know?” The girl blinks at him, apparently not quite sure what to make of his warning.

“I apologize for my brother’s misconduct. It won’t happen again,” she says finally, before nudging her brother in the side. “You heard the nice man, you shouldn’t be stealing. What were you thinking?” She lectures, sounding more like an exasperated parent than a sister. “Come on now, give shinigami-sama his money back.” The boy scowls, a distinctly mulish expression on his face. It’s one Shunsui is more than familiar with, having helped Juushiro babysit his horde of siblings more than once.

“Why? I mean, when it comes to the areas where he needs the most help, money clearly isn’t helping him any or else he’d have bought himself a better personality by now,” the boy says sullenly, casting a glare at Hideaki. Shunsui coughs to hide an amused smile, and places a restraining hand on Hideaki’s shoulder before the man can do something regrettable. The kid certainly isn’t afraid to speak his mind, that’s for sure.

“Otouto, don’t be rude. The poor man can’t help it,” the girl scolds, causing Shunsui to choke slightly and Hideaki’s face to go red with fury. Like brother, like sister, apparently.

“Now, hand it over.” When her brother stubbornly refuses to move, she sighs and sticks her hand down the back of his shirt, ignoring his yelp, before coming up with a bag full of money.

“Here you go, shinigami-sama,” she says, dumping the pouch into Shunsui’s hand. “Thank you for your patience, and we appreciate you being so generous with us.”

It’s a slightly odd way of phrasing things but Shunsui dismisses it. Despite the girl’s oddly adult way of saying things, she’s still a kid; she’s bound to make a few linguistic errors.

 

* * *

 

It’s only about half an hour later that he realizes the full meaning behind her words. A bellow of rage comes from the other side of the inn and Shunsui looks over to see Hideaki shaking with rage, staring at something in his hands before storming out. Feeling more than a bit of curiosity, he walks over only to see a slip of paper and the aforementioned money bag on the table.

“What’s he so upset about now?” He asks another one of his squad members, idly picking up the scrap of paper.

“Ah…he just found out that he was, um, robbed,” the man says nervously. When Shunsui looks pointedly at the pouch of money still resting on the table, he adds, “The, uh, _number_ of coins in his bag didn’t change but the amount _…_ well, originally he had roughly 5000 kan in there but, um, apparently someone replaced all his higher value coins with single-kan ones?” Shunsui blinks slowly before glancing down at the piece of paper in his hands. Scrawled across it in what appears to be charcoal, are the words _Thank you for your generous donation to the Children of Rukongai Fund._

For a long moment, Shunsui just stares at the note in silence. Then he snorts, covering his mouth with one hand in an attempt to suppress his mirth, before giving it up as a bad job. Shoulders shaking with laughter, he can’t help but wonder at the sheer _audacity…_ and how much of that back there had been an act, exactly? The thief had obviously realized early on that he stood no chance of outrunning a shinigami, but was it coincidence that he’d gotten caught in a public place, where most people would be inclined to restrain themselves more? As for his belligerence and his sister’s careful deference…how much of that had been a means to distract, to throw off suspicion? And how the _hell_ had they found the time to replace the coins, let alone write a note?

“Taicho? Are you alright?” His subordinate asks nervously, looking terrified at the idea that his captain might be having a mental breakdown in front of him.

“Maa, maa, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” Shunsui chuckles, waving him off. He can’t help but shake his head at how ridiculous the whole scenario is.

  _Over 800 years old and fooled by a pair of brats who can’t be more than 35,_ he thinks to himself wryly. Despite their actions being at his subordinate’s expense, however, he can’t deny that he feels a bit impressed.

  _Well played. Well played, indeed._

* * *

 

The fact that Shunsui likes to frequent the Rukongai every few months is a little known secret. He keeps it that way because he’s found that hiding in the nearby districts is the best way to keep Lisa off his back about his paperwork.

(Plus, once he gets past district three or so, hardly anyone recognizes him and it’s…nice to be looked at without the usual accompanying awe or adoration. To be treated like a normal person.)

He’s frequenting a local shogi club in the 4th District of West Rukongai when he comes across one of the regulars grumbling about “damn genius kids taking all of his money.” A quick glance at the game shows that the man lost by an impressively large margin.

“Who was your opponent, if you don’t mind me asking?” Shunsui asks, interested. It isn’t often he comes across promising new players; it’d be nice to find someone who could offer him a challenge.

“Some random brat,” the man grunts. “Looked ‘bout nine, brown hair, brown eyes. He just left; if you want to catch up with him, you’d better hurry.”

After murmuring a word of thanks, Shunsui heads out of the club and just manages to catch a glimpse of brown hair before it vanishes across a corner. A quick shunpo brings him to a nearby rooftop, where he finds that the kid looks…oddly familiar. It takes Shunsui a few minutes of following the boy around before he’s able to place him as the bold little thief from a few years back, and when he does Shunsui can’t help but feel faintly surprised. While souls aren’t exactly confined to the district they’re sent to after their death, between a lack of funds and the risk of running into hollows in the forests separating the districts, he’s found that few are comfortable with traveling around. Given that the last time he saw the boy, they were in the 37th district of East Rukongai and they’re currently in the 4th district of West Rukongai…well, it suggests a certain level of mobility that Shunsui hadn’t expected.

 “So are you just gonna hide there and stare at me all day, or…?” The boy calls out abruptly. Shunsui considers his options, shrugs, and proceeds to jump down from the rooftop, where he finds himself on the receiving end of a suspicious glare.

“Ah, so you noticed me. I was wondering if you would,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He isn’t exactly surprised—he wasn’t really trying to hide in the first place, and he’s discovered that Rukongai kids tend to have better instincts than most.

“You’ve been following me. Why?” The boy cuts in, expression giving no indication as to whether or not he recognizes him. After a moment of consideration, Shunsui decides to go with the truth.

“Saw that game you just played and was pretty impressed,” he says with an easy smile. “Don’t suppose you’d indulge me in a match?”

“I’d love to, I really would, but nee-chan says I’m not allowed to go off with lonely old men,” the boy answers without missing a beat. Shunsui chokes, feeling more than a little indignant at the implication, and proceeds to revise his opinion of the boy from ‘brat’ to ‘impertinent little shit.’

“Hey now, watch yourself! I’m not lonely! I happen to have many friends, thank you very much. And I’m not old either!” He adds grumpily. “I’ll have you know that I’m in the prime of my life.”

“Mmm, if you say so,” the boy says, tilting his head to the side with an innocent smile. “Is that why you were stalking a prepubescent boy? Nee-chan _did_ say something about men in their mid-life crises having weird habits.”

“And where _is_ your sister, by the way? Seems a bit careless of her to just let you wander off by yourself, doesn’t it?” Shunsui asks, deciding to change the subject to something a little less awkward. The boy’s eyes flash in response but what surprises Shunsui is the briefest upsurge in reiatsu that accompanies it.

“Nee-chan knows that I can take care of myself,” he says defensively, voice just a little too tight to be casual.

“I have no doubt that you can, but nonetheless I admit I find myself a little surprised that she’d leave you on your own,” Shunsui murmurs, extending his reiatsu. He hadn’t noticed it before, hadn’t been looking for it, but now he can tell that there are small fluctuations in the boy’s energy—telltale signs that it’s being suppressed. “Unless, of course…”

As if on cue, a small figure slips out from the shadows behind him as the other half of the duo goes to stand beside her brother. Looking at them, Shunsui is once again taken aback by just how alike they look—the girl’s features are a touch more delicate while the boy’s eyes are a shade lighter, but aside from that they look eerily similar.

“Otouto,” the girl greets her brother, although she doesn’t take her eyes off him. It also doesn’t escape his notice that neither of them have referred to each other by name so far. “I thought I told you not to speak to suspicious characters.”

_Oh, come on,_ Shunsui thinks in exasperation. First implied pedophile, and now ‘suspicious character’? At this rate, these kids are going to give him a complex.

“Maa, maa, I mean no harm,” Shunsui says, holding his hands up. He isn’t surprised to note the same fluctuations in the girl’s reiatsu, although hers are far more subtle. It does bring up the question though of exactly how much reiatsu these kids _have,_ for them to feel the need to suppress it. Hiding his reiatsu is all but second nature to him as a captain—it has to be, since the slightest loss of control over it tends to send grown men sprawling to their knees—but for two kids to do so? Who are these children, exactly? “Would it help if I introduced myself? Kyouraku Shunsui, Captain of the Gotei 13’s Eighth Division, at your service.”

This time, the surge in the boy’s reiatsu is far more pronounced but interestingly enough, the girl’s doesn’t waver. A testament to her control, perhaps…?

“And what business does a captain have with two kids from the Rukongai?” The girl asks skeptically, not bothering to offer her own name.

“Well, as someone who visits these areas relatively frequently, I figured it was my duty to inform you of some of the local attractions. See, in two weeks, district three of North Rukongai will be holding its annual dango festival,” he says, studying them closely. “It’s also where a few members from the Gotei 13’s First Division will be holding an information session for those who might be interested in becoming shinigami.”

“Don’t you need high spiritual energy levels in order to become shinigami, though?” The girl questions, expression unreadable.

“Of course, but I don’t think that’s something either of you need to worry about, am I right?” He asks with a smile. The boy stiffens and the girl’s eyes narrow minutely, but to their credit, neither of them bother denying it. “You don’t need to come; I’m not forcing you to. Just…consider it, okay?”

With that, he turns around and begins to head back in the direction of the Seireitei, whistling to himself as he goes. He gets about ten feet before the boy—and he really needs to learn their names, he can’t just keep referring to them as ‘the girl’ and ‘the boy’—calls out.

“Will you be there? At the information session, I mean,” he asks. Shunsui pauses, but doesn’t turn around.

“Originally, I wasn’t planning on it,” he admits, which is true. Recruiting events like these have a tendency of turning out _dreadfully_ dull. Now, though… “But recent events have made me consider making an exception.”

 

* * *

 

“So are you going to tell me what all this is about, now?” Juushiro asks, his voice a familiar mix of exasperation and indulgent amusement.

“In a minute. Just to make sure, you can’t recognize me with this hat on, can you?” Shunsui asks, adjusting the massive straw hat he’d bought from a nearby vendor. It’s surprisingly comfortable, actually—he might have to start wearing one full-time.

“I assure you, Shunsui, your face is very well-concealed. As is mine,” Juushiro answers, adjusting his matching straw hat. “Although I doubt that anyone would recognize you anyway, seeing as you’ve decided to leave behind your pink kimono for once.”

“Ah, yes. Unfortunately, sacrifices must sometimes be made in the name of the greater good…which, in this case, is concealing our identities so that we aren’t expected to go up there and answer questions, or, gods forbid, make a speech,” Shunsui says, making a face.

“And we all know how much you detest making speeches,” Juushiro agrees dryly. “So that begs the question—why come at all?”

“Well, you know, with the upcoming Academy exams, it’s always a good thing to see what kinds of people might be intending to apply,” Shunsui says modestly.

“Mm. And might one of these people be the little girl over there who keeps glancing our way?” Juushiro asks knowingly, nodding towards the edge of the crowd.

“What? Where?” Shunsui asks, straightening up, and promptly finds himself on the receiving end of a flat brown stare. Upon meeting his gaze, the girl’s eyes narrow and she abruptly turns away, disappearing into the crowd.

“She’s awfully young, don’t you think?” Juushiro says quietly.

“Perhaps,” Shunsui says slowly. “Her brother’s even younger, and I’m not advocating that they become shinigami right away. Nonetheless, I would feel more…comfortable for them to be in a place where I could keep an eye on them.”

“I noticed that she was suppressing her reiatsu, and given that I’m fairly certain she noticed us from the moment we set foot here, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a sensor as well. I can see why she caught your interest,” Juushiro hums thoughtfully. “You said she had a brother?”

Shunsui nods in affirmation. “They look about the same age, although from the way they behave, she’s clearly the older one. By how much, I don’t know.” The sound of applause draws his attention and he looks towards the center of the crowd, where the First Division 12th Seat, a former Rukongai resident, is finishing up his speech.

“Being a shinigami has been an honor and a privilege,” the officer says earnestly. “It’s been my goal from the time I was a kid and now I’m finally realizing it. I can’t tell you what it’s like to be a shinigami—all I can say is that over these past few years, I’ve been doing my utmost best to uphold the laws of Soul Society, and it’s given my life meaning. More than that, it’s been a dream come true.” Smiling down at the crowd, he adds, “I know it may seem like an impossible goal but trust me when I say that it’s doable. I, too, thought it impossible at one time, but look at me now! And even if you’re not sure if you can make it, what’s the harm in trying? There’s no limit to the number of times you can apply, and there’s no age restriction—no one is too young nor too old,” he laughs. “The process is open to everyone.”

“Everyone?” A familiar voice speaks up. The officer blinks in surprise before smiling welcomingly.

“That’s correct! Why? You thinking about applying?”

“I guess it does seem kinda cool,” the boy admits bashfully. Shunsui leans forward to get a better look, fails, and decides to jump up onto a nearby rooftop to watch. A fraction of a second later, Juushiro joins him.

“Better wait a few years first, otouto,” another familiar voice joins in. “Right now, all a hollow would have to do is breathe in your general direction, and you’d probably topple over.”

“I see what you mean by her acting like the older one,” Juushiro murmurs. “He defers to her. It’s impressive, really—I don’t think I managed to get any of _my_ siblings to listen to me until I was at least a century old.”

“Well, that’s fine too! There’s no rush after all—besides, this’ll give you more time to prepare,” the officer laughs, reaching forward to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Work hard so that you can become strong, okay? Who knows, maybe one day you’ll be able to become a hero as well.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence when the boy ducks around the officer’s hand, and Shunsui sees the girl’s face close off, her expression now eerily blank.

“Ah,” Juushiro says, echoing his thoughts. “This can’t end well.”

“I suppose it _would_ be an honor to someday become one of Soul Society’s defenders,” the girl speaks up first, lips curling into a placid smile. “I know that I, for one, owe much to the shinigami.”

 She doesn’t quite manage to hide the venom in her tone as she continues, eyes like tempered steel, “I mean, where do we even start with a shinigami’s heroic actions? Why, if it weren’t for their assistance in maintaining order, the Rukongai might turn into a lawless, yakuza-run hellhole filled with gang-violence and petty crime, and what an awful world _that_ would be, don’t you agree, shinigami-san? If it weren’t for their strength _,_ hollow attacks might become a near-daily occurrence. And if it weren’t for their _kindness,_ who knows? You might even see kids like myself starving in the streets,” she says, sarcasm dripping like poison from her voice. “Truly, I have much to be grateful for and I can’t imagine the satisfaction you must feel every time you lift your sword, shinigami-san, knowing that you’re doing your part in making the world a better place.”

To his credit, the officer doesn’t even flinch as the crowd starts murmuring unhappily.

“I take my satisfaction in knowing that we try our best. Unfortunately, we do not have the resources to do as much as we’d like, but rest assured, we are constantly looking for ways to improve and maximize our efficiency,” he says with a forced smile.

“Shinigami-san is right,” the girl’s brother pipes up unexpectedly. He’s holding onto his sister’s hand tightly and even at this distance, Shunsui can hear the tremulous note in his voice. “Nee-chan…nee-chan, it’s not fair to blame them when they’re doing the best they can. I’m sure they’re busy with other things, like…like setting up cool events like this one! With lots of pretty banners and stuff!”

His sister doesn’t say anything in response but then again, at this point she doesn’t need to. Even Shunsui can’t help but wince when an old woman speaks up from the back, her voice thick with anger and pain.

“Those kids have got a point. Just last month, I lost my only son in a hollow attack and where were you shinigami then, huh? Protectors? Hah! The only people you protect are the ones in that city of yours!”

“If you shinigami spent half as much time on actually _doing_ the stuff you’re supposed to do, instead of hosting useless events like this one, maybe you wouldn’t have to try so hard to convince people of your worth,” Another woman chimes in.

“You say you’re Rukongai? Bah! You’ve forgotten what Rukongai is, boy.”

“Well,” Shunsui says faintly as the crowd gets increasingly riled up. “That was a disaster.”

 

* * *

 

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to find me,” the girl says calmly. “Come to silence me for my impertinence, Kyouraku-taicho?”

“You really think so little of me, kid?” Shunsui asks mildly, ignoring the way Juushiro stiffens next to him. “I do have other skills.”

“But that’s what you’re best at, isn’t it?” She retorts and turns to face him, a faintly mocking smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “It’s all in the name. Shinigami. Death god. _Reaper of souls.”_

Shunsui smiles.

“You don’t believe that I’m here to harm you. Or else, you would have tried far harder to hide,” he points out. She stares at him for a moment longer before shrugging, relaxing a fraction.

“I suppose I don’t. If only because if you _had_ decided to kill me, you wouldn’t have brought a friend along,” she concedes, studying Juushiro closely. “Another captain? I’m honored.”

“Ah, yes. This here is Ukitake Juushiro, Captain of the Thirteenth Division,” Shunsui introduces, hoping that _this_ time she’ll do the polite thing and offer her own name. He’s getting rather tired of referring to her as ‘the girl.’

No such luck.

“Pleasure,” she murmurs, tilting her head in acknowledgement. It’s a gesture that’d be rude coming from anyone else, given the massive difference in their ages, but Shunsui gets the feeling that this is the most submission she’s willing to show anyone. Juushiro seems to feel the same way because he smiles back, expression gentle.

“Likewise, ah…?” He trails off questioningly, waiting for her to fill in the blank. She casts an amused look at him, her expression simultaneously conveying that she knows exactly what he’s up to and is just petty enough to say something infuriatingly vague.

“You may call me whatever you like, although I respond quite nicely to ‘girl,’” she says mildly and Shunsui takes back every thought he’s had about the girl’s maturity.

Turning away from Juushiro, she glances at Shunsui and asks, “Well, if you didn’t come here to finish me off, why _did_ you seek me out? I presume it wasn’t just to tell me that you regretted extending your invitation to me and my brother.”

“I admit, had I known you harbored so much latent frustration towards the Gotei 13, I would have tried to recruit you another way,” Shunsui confesses. The girl’s lips quirk up.

“If it makes you feel any better, my brother and I _had_ planned on playing nice today. Believe it or not, neither of us harbor any ill will towards the Gotei 13. As long as you leave us alone, I hardly care what you do with your time and resources,” she says bluntly. “That being said, I do not appreciate the insinuation that we somehow owe the shinigami our gratitude when you have done nothing to help us. For that officer to go up there and claim to be our protector, our champion, our _hero_ …I must admit, that kind of sheer self-righteousness irritates me.”

“Fair enough,” Shunsui murmurs. “No, you’re used to taking care of yourself, aren’t you?” The girl looks at him in incomprehension.

“Well, who else is going to?” She asks blankly, and there’s something heartbreaking about the casual acceptance in her voice. Judging by the stricken look that flashes across Juushiro’s face, he shares Shunsui’s sentiment.

“If you claim not to be against the shinigami though, why not join? I understand if you want to wait a while now, given your age, but in a few years…” Juushiro asks, carefully keeping any trace of pity from his voice. He’s probably right in thinking that the girl wouldn’t respond well to that.  

“Well, it all comes down to what I can get out of it, doesn’t it?” She points out reasonably. “The benefits are obvious. Financial security, training, knowledge…but it comes at the cost of my freedom, I can’t say that it’s worth it.”

“There is no true freedom in our world,” Shunsui says with a hint of regret, ignoring the sharp look Juushiro sends his way. “You must know that.”

“If that’s the case, then I will fight for the illusion of it,” she answers simply.

 

* * *

“Why did you let her go?” Juushiro asks later that night. “Not to say that I disagree, but sooner or later, if she and her brother are as powerful as I think they are, then…”

“You’re right. Sooner or later, the Gotei 13 will catch up with them and I, for one, would rather it be later.” He pauses for a moment. “Besides, if possible, I would like them to come to the decision of joining on their own.” Ethics aside, he can’t shake the feeling that forcing the siblings into this would be a mistake. At best, it would alienate them. At worst, well…he’s seen enough over the years to learn that no good comes out of taking someone’s choice away from them.

“They do make quite the pair, don’t they?” Juushiro asks wryly. “I’m fairly certain they did more to damage the Gotei 13’s reputation in five minutes than most people do in a lifetime.”

“More guts than common sense, but just enough intelligence to get away with it,” Shunsui agrees. For a minute, both he and Juushiro sit in companionable silence. Then—

“Hey, Juu-chan? Do I really come across as a ‘suspicious character’?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lighter chapter but it's hard for it not to come out lighter when it's in Kyouraku's POV. Besides, can't have this story being doom and gloom all the time, right?
> 
> Also, way to go Sayuri. I headcanon that 1 kan is roughly equal to 1 yen, so basically she did the equivalent of stealing roughly 50 dollars and replacing it with a handful of pennies.
> 
> Also, this chapter is proof that apparently I cannot write non-sassy main characters. I am simply incapable of it. On the bright side though, both twins are getting better at acting normal, thanks to those 10 years of freedom—for example, Sayuri's gotten better at showing expressions so she doesn't look like a creepy doll all the time while Sousuke's acting skills have only improved, and he's gotten a lot better at analyzing someone's threat level (i.e. realizing that while Kyouraku is certainly dangerous, he's also not an immediate threat per se).
> 
> He's also learned how to suppress his reiatsu to that of a below-average Academy student because after last chapter, if you think Sayuri's gonna let her brother go around without being able to suppress his reiatsu, you are sadly mistaken (also I headcanon that once you get to captain level, sensing the reiatsu of mid-level Academy students and below is a freaking pain unless you're actually trying, which is why he didn't notice Sousuke's spiritual energy at first. Sayuri, meanwhile, can pass off as 'normal plus soul' level if you're not paying too much attention.)
> 
> Without his reiatsu suppressed, he's currently at the level of a lower to mid seated officer. Sayuri only has about 75-80% of the reiatsu he does (putting her at the level of a lower seated officer), but her sensing abilities and reiatsu control are way, way, way above normal.
> 
> Sorry for the long author's note and hope you enjoyed the chapter! ^_^


	10. Closure

What wakes her up is the gradual coldness beside her, a chilling emptiness that slowly permeates her to the core. Sayuri shivers, eyes flashing open in the dark and she doesn’t need to look to know that she’s alone in her bed right now.

With a sigh, she reaches up and runs her fingers through her hair in a haphazard attempt to comb it, absently noting that it’s almost shoulder length now—she’ll have to cut it again soon. Toeing on her shoes, she slips out the door and casually nods a greeting to the innkeeper.

“Our payment for last night’s stay. Thank you for your hospitality,” Sayuri says politely, tossing a handful of coins onto the counter. She pauses before adding another handful to the mix. “Oh, and this is for the gentleman in room eight. It should be enough to cover his bill.”  

“Ah—” The innkeeper begins, looking at the money in confusion before stopping himself. It’s obvious that he’s noticed she’s paid quite a bit more than her due, but isn’t fool enough to turn down extra cash.

“I’m afraid my brother may have made a bit of a mess upstairs,” Sayuri replies smoothly, in answer to his unspoken question. Her lips quirk up in a sharp smile as she turns away, already heading towards the door. “Consider it an apology, for the added inconvenience on your part.”

With that, she walks out of the inn, absently fingering her newfound money pouch. Quite unfortunate that its previous owner had gotten lost on his way back to his room last night, mistaking hers and Sousuke’s for his own—although looking back, she supposes it isn’t that surprising given the copious amounts of alcohol he seemed to have consumed beforehand. It was an understandable mistake and had he not also mistaken her for the whore he hired, she might have been inclined to forgive him.

 

* * *

 

She catches up with her brother on the outskirts of the district, mutilating a tree to pieces.

“You’re up early,” Sayuri comments, startling him.

“Sayuri. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologizes, glancing at her.

“It’s not your fault,” she answers. These days, she wonders if she can even fall asleep anymore without his signature warmth at her side. Ever since those two weeks she spent in the dark…she pushes the thought away, nodding at the sword in his hands. “I take it that’s from our guest from last night? You’re going to hurt yourself if you’re not careful.”

“As if a weapon like this could hurt me. Dull piece of garbage,” he snorts, tossing it to the side dismissively.

“Is that a challenge, otouto?” Sayuri asks archly, picking the sword off the ground. Running her reiatsu through it, she suppresses a wince at the minute imperfections running through the steel. Still, dull hunk of metal or not, it’s still a piece of metal in her hands and metal is something she can work with. Closing her eyes, she reaches for the pool of molten heat in the center of her chest and channels it down both arms, through her palms, and down the hilt until the blade starts glowing red hot.

“Oh, now that’s just not fair,” Sousuke complains, although his eyes are bright with something like anticipation. He jumps up and kicks down a branch from a nearby tree, holding it like a staff. Without further ado, he sets the end on fire. “Even if it’s crap, at least you have a _sword_ to work with. All I’ve got is a stick.”

“Quality of the weapon doesn’t matter as much as the quality of the wielder, Sousuke,” Sayuri retorts.

“Fair enough.” A slow smile begins to spread over Sousuke’s face, revealing just a hint of teeth. “May the best wielder win, then.”

 

* * *

 

“Just so you know, using a staff doesn’t suit you,” Sayuri mutters sullenly, picking burnt splinters out of her hair. “I mean, that branch was nearly as tall as you. You looked ridiculous.”

“So did you,” Sousuke retorts from where he’s balanced precariously on a large rock. He dips a relatively-clean rag into the stream below him, wincing as he presses it to an angry-looking cut on his shoulder. “That sword was way too big for you and you know it.”

“Also, that last trick you pulled was dirty. Blowing that stupid tree branch up in my face? I could’ve lost an eye,” she continues, choosing to ignore her brother for the moment.

“Oh, please. You were already back-flipping out of the way,” Sousuke snorts. “And what about me? Do you know the only thing worse than getting slashed half to pieces? Getting slashed half to pieces with a _burning hot sword.”_ At that, Sayuri winces and walks over to sit next to him.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” she murmurs, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. “At least the blade cauterized your wounds?”

“Small comfort,” Sousuke says grumpily, although the way he allows her to help bandage his arm tells her that she’s already forgiven. “I guess this is a draw, then?”

“Don’t think we have much of a choice, given what’s become of our weapons,” she says wryly, leaning into his side. Sousuke’s makeshift staff is nothing more than a pile of woodchips right now, and her own sword currently consists of several chunks of half-melted metal.

“Mm. We could do so much better, you know,” he murmurs into her hair. “We could _be_ so much better.”

“Sousuke—” Sayuri says warningly, stiffening. His arm around her tightens, preventing her from pulling away.

“Think about it. We could become stronger, so much stronger, I _know_ we can,” he says fervently. “Right now, we’re stagnating. There’s only so much we can learn on our own, but with the shinigami…” Sousuke’s eyes are bright as he turns to look at her, his cheeks flushed, and she closes her eyes, feeling a hollow pang deep in her chest. She’s not blind, she’s noticed the way he’s been quiet, contemplative, over the past few months, seen the longing glances he’s cast in the direction of the Seireitei when he thinks she isn’t looking, but for him to bring up the subject so soon…

“You would ask me to give up my freedom for you, Sousuke?” She asks softly. _Again?_

At that, Sousuke flinches minutely. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment and when he finally speaks up again, his voice is nearly inaudible.

“Freedom hasn’t made you happy, though,” he mutters, not quite meeting her eyes.

“Excuse me?” She asks, a little too sharply.

“I said, freedom hasn’t made you happy,” he repeats, angry now. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? I watched as the fights back in the arena slowly killed you day by day, and now the only time I ever see you come _alive_ is when you fight.” His reiatsu lashes out agitatedly as he glares at her, eyes hard. “And you know why? It’s because you’re _bored,_ Sayuri! Admit it, you’re just as bored as I am!”

“Perhaps, but that’s not the point,” she says coolly. “I won’t be a slave that mindlessly kills on the orders of someone else, Sousuke. Not again.”

“I don’t understand. So what’s a couple more lives?” Sousuke asks in frustrated confusion. “It can’t bother you _that_ much, I mean it’s not like leaving the arena stopped you from killing people—”

“It’s not the thought of killing people, Sousuke!” She exclaims, running her hands over her face. “It’s that I’d lose the right to _refuse._ And worse, I would be _choosing_ to give that right up.”

 “So that’s it, then?” Sousuke asks, expression unreadable. “That’s your final answer?” Sayuri stays quiet for a long time, before gently resting a hand on his shoulder.

“If you joined the shinigami, I would follow,” she says quietly. “But please. _Please_ don’t ask this of me.”

 

* * *

 

“Sousuke, is the blindfold really necessary?” Sayuri asks exasperatedly as her brother leads her through the streets.

“This is meant to be a surprise, Sayuri,” he chuckles, hand warm in hers. “It won’t be much of a surprise if you figure it out before it’s time, right?”

“You still haven’t told me what the surprise is for,” Sayuri points out, a touch warily. “Should I be concerned?”

“Think of it as an…apology, of sorts,” he says, after a pause. “I shouldn’t have pushed you so much before, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says, feeling a little suspicious now. It’s not like him to apologize, not for something like this. “Besides, that was weeks ago.”

“Ah. I’m afraid this particular gift took a while to track down,” he says sheepishly. “Still, I think you’ll enjoy it. Now relax already, will you? We’re almost there; now make a right—”

Sayuri isn’t listening anymore though, having stopped dead in her tracks as a sickeningly familiar aura pricks at her senses.

“Sousuke, what is the meaning of this?” She asks, and hates herself for the way her voice shakes, ever so slightly. Sousuke pauses, hand tightening around hers.

“I’d hoped that his energy would be too weak for you to sense it. Rather foolish of me, in retrospect,” he sighs. “I shouldn’t have made the mistake of underestimating you.”

“ _Why?”_ She asks, tearing her blindfold off before turning to stare at her brother in hurt disbelief. “We…we escaped that life. We _moved on._ Why would you bring me to him?”

“It’s simple. _I_ may have moved on but you haven’t, not really,” he says calmly. As she continues to look at him with something like betrayal, his expression softens and he lifts one hand to cradle her cheek. “It’s in the way you hate staying in small spaces, the way you look over your shoulder, the way you’re constantly, _constantly_ scanning your surroundings, the way you’re terrified of handing over control for even a second. So here’s your closure, Sayuri.”

“Killing Matsushita won’t solve anything,” Sayuri says, feeling exhausted all of a sudden.

“Won’t it?” Sousuke asks, a smile playing along the edges of his lips. “Don’t tell me you haven’t _fantasized_ about it. I know I certainly did, back when we were still with that pig. Of course, we were too scared back then, too _weak_ to follow through with it, but things are different now, aren’t they?” He steps closer, soft brown eyes— _their mother’s eyes,_ she thinks absently, _gentle and cruel in equal turn—_ meeting her own.

“He once took your control from you, and almost broke you in the process,” he whispers. “Now’s your chance to take it back.”

 

* * *

 

The first thing Sayuri notices when she steps into the empty shack is that Matsushita is surprisingly unharmed. In fact, aside from the bruise on his temple and the fact that he’s lost some weight, she could almost believe that she stepped back in time.

“I left him mostly untouched for you,” Sousuke says as he walks over to Matsushita’s prone figure, prodding him lightly with his foot. “Would you like me to wake him up?”

“Leave him,” Sayuri says blankly, already feeling herself slip back into a familiar state of detachment. She doesn’t fight the numbness, just lets it envelope her like an old security blanket as she continues, “I’ll handle it.”

“Alright. If you’re sure,” Sousuke says after a moment, a glimmer of concern in his eyes. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

She just nods, so engrossed with the unconscious man on the ground that she barely even registers him leave. After another prolonged pause, she walks up and dumps half a bottle of water on the person her mother sold her to.

Matsushita splutters as he jolts awake, eyes flitting around frantically before settling on her.

“Sayuri-chan. Now there’s a face I haven’t seen in a while,” he says, offering her a weak smile as he registers her features. She frowns at him.  

“You aren’t afraid,” she observes. Matsushita smiles again, more genuinely this time, a hint of his old childish demeanor returning.

“Should I be? We’re friends, aren’t we Sayuri-chan? Oh, now don’t be like that,” he chides when her lips thin. “I took care of you and your brother for nearly a decade; fed you, clothed you, sheltered you, taught you how to survive. I’d say that makes us friends, don’t you?” He looks around at the empty shack they’re in, seemingly completely unbothered by the ropes binding his hands and feet together.

“Was this meeting your idea? Can’t say I’m surprised; you always did find it hard to let things go.” He grins up at her through yellowed teeth. “Tell me, do you still draw?”

Despite herself, Sayuri feels her hands tighten into fists, nails digging into her palm hard enough to cut through skin.

“My brother’s idea, actually,” she says, choosing not to acknowledge his last question. “He seems to be under the impression that killing you will please me.”

“And will it?” Matsushita asks curiously. Sayuri stares at him in disbelief.

“This may not have been my idea, but you can’t possibly think that I’ll let you go alive,” she says.

“Well, of course not. You’re _my_ kid, after all,” he chuckles, and she feels her detached mask crack slightly at the _pride_ in his words. “I taught you better than that.”

“You’re insane,” Sayuri blurts out, unable to stop herself from taking a step back.

“Not insane. Just realistic,” he corrects, looking at her through knowing eyes. “No point in fighting the inevitable, eh?”

“So you…you really feel no regret, at all. For what you’ve done,” she murmurs. At that, Matsushita blinks in surprise.

“Regret? My dear girl, it was an _honor_ to help you and your brother reach your potential,” he says earnestly. “You know, out of all my kids, you two were my favorite? My masterpieces.”

“We aren’t _yours,”_ Sayuri spits out. “You—”

“We both know that you wouldn’t have become half the person you are today without my help,” Matsushita says impatiently. “I couldn’t help but notice that you look rather healthy, for a parentless girl living on the streets. Living a cushy life, are ya? Can’t imagine that it’s hard, when you can simply kill the nearest person for money whenever you run out. Not to mention, who do you think gave you the strength to handle the majority of threats that come your way? Who do you think gave you the ability to escape the rings in the first place? Who do you think turned you from a weak, _sniveling_ little girl into a fighter? Hate me all you like, but you can’t deny that it’s thanks to _me_ that you didn’t turn out just like your mother, whoring yourself out on the nearest street corner.”

“No, you just turned me into a murderer instead,” Sayuri says bitterly.

“Still not over that, huh? Well, you can’t blame that _entirely_ on me. The potential was always there, I just helped bring it out,” Matsushita defends. “You think you would have survived in the rink otherwise? You think you would have _excelled?”_ A wistful look crosses his face. “You remember those days, don’t you? I especially liked the auctions, where the audience could pay to have you use weapons of their choice. Handkerchiefs, chopsticks, it didn’t matter…oh, that one time you shoved a dildo down that little girl’s throat and made her _choke—”_

His voice cuts off with an agonized yell as she stabs him in the stomach without warning.

“Don’t worry, it won’t kill you. Not yet, anyway,” Sayuri says casually, twisting the dagger embedded in his abdomen and ignoring his subsequent bellow of pain. “The knife will stem the blood flow, for now.”

Tilting her head to the side, she flares her reiatsu slightly and a minute later, she feels her brother enter the room.

“Yes, Sayuri?” He asks curiously, stepping forward and crouching down beside her.

“Matsushita-sama seems to be feeling nostalgic, so I thought I’d indulge him with one last performance,” she informs him.

“Of course,” he murmurs. “What do you want me to do?”

She doesn’t answer, instead turning back to the groaning man on the floor.

“You remember my brother, don’t you, Matsushita-sama? How he tears his opponents apart,” she says softly, as beads of sweat start to form on Matsushita’s face at the sight of Sousuke. She feels a bit offended, really; just because she usually favors quick, relatively painless kills doesn’t mean she isn’t capable of making a man _suffer_ when she wants to.

“You were wrong before, you know,” Sayuri adds, bringing his attention back to her. “We’ve never belonged to you. It doesn’t matter what your orders were; every life I took, every time I forced myself to stay alive, that was all for him. As for Sousuke…he answers to me. He’s always answered to me.”

She smiles, lightly tracing his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears, before her hand settles on the knife still embedded in his abdomen.

“I want you to carve away his senses, one by one,” Sayuri says suddenly, turning to where her brother is watching her with an enraptured expression on his face. “Start with his tongue, will you? I’m getting rather tired of hearing him talk.” She caresses the lavishly crafted hilt sticking out of Matsushita’s stomach before withdrawing, fingers sticky with blood. “And once you’re done with his tongue, nose, eyes, and ears, pull this out. I want pain to be the last thing he knows.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re heading in the wrong direction, otouto,” she calls out as Sousuke starts walking northward. They’d spent a shorter time than usual in this district, but after coming face-to-face with Matsushita in the first time in over ten years, she’d felt it was time to move on.

“Isn’t this way north?” He asks, puzzled.

“Well yes, but the Seireitei is to our south,” she says calmly. At her words, Sousuke freezes, tentative hope lighting up his face.

“Sayuri?” He asks hesitantly. She sighs, turning to face him.

“Matsushita was wrong about many things, but he was right about one thing. Everything I know about how to survive—how to defend myself, how to fight, how to turn just about anything into a weapon—was built on the foundations of what I learned while in Matsushita’s care,” she says, looking down at her hands. “And I refuse to accept that. I know that becoming a shinigami may not change anything, but at least I’ll be able to say that the strength I gained _there_ had nothing to do with the fighting rings.” Sayuri glances up, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

“Don’t look so surprised, Sousuke. You knew what seeing Matsushita would do to me, how much I’d hate the thought of being his legacy,” she says tiredly. At that, he glances away, guilt flickering across his expression.

“Sayuri—” He begins, biting his lip.

“Don’t.” She interrupts. “We both know you don’t regret it. After all, you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“I—” He cuts himself off, before he can lie and say something like _I didn’t mean to hurt you._

Good. At least he still respects her that much.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he says, instead. She turns away, closing her eyes.

“I know,” she says, not quite able to hide the sadness in her tone. “You never do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re wondering why he didn’t just leave to go become a shinigami (Sayuri already said that she would follow him, after all), he did want it to be her choice. It’s just that his method of persuading her was rather…yeah.
> 
> Also, the knife she used was the same one she used to kill that one noble who tried to rape her, all those years ago. I thought it was fitting :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: IMPORTANT!! I’ve posted this on my tumblr already, but regarding To Love a Monster, I’ve pretty much lost all inspiration to continue. I’m not altogether happy with how the story is right now but I don’t have the energy to rewrite it either. However, I don’t want to give the story up entirely and I am rather attached to Sayuri as an OC. I’ve long since discovered that my favorite scenes are the ones people prompted me to write. So I figure instead of discontinuing it entirely, I can try to continue it on a prompt basis. There won’t be a cohesive, linear plot, exactly, but I’ll try to write short drabbles based on scenes/possible scenarios my readers would like to see. To give you an example of what it’s probably going to look like, this chapter will consist of my past responses to prompts (stuff I wrote on my tumblr a while ago).  
> IF YOU DIDN’T READ ANY OF THAT GO BACK AND READ IT OTHERWISE YOU WILL BE CONFUSED AS HELL

_Prompt: How might a meeting between Sayuri and Ichigo look like?_

“I’m home!” Ichigo calls out, taking off his shoes. The house is oddly quiet and he frowns. “Karin? Yuzu?”

“In the living room, Ichi-nii!” Yuzu finally answers. There’s a faint tremor in her voice and the feeling of  _something’s not right_  only increases. 

“Yuzu, what–” Ichigo stops dead in his tracks at the sight before him, mouth going dry.

“Hello, Ichigo-kun,” Aizen Sayuri greets him from where she’s sitting next to a pale-faced Karin, one hand resting casually on his sister’s knee. On her other side is Yuzu, eyes bright and shiny with unshed tears. 

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” she adds as his hand automatically flies to the badge in his pocket. “I’m just here to talk. Do be civil; we wouldn’t want things to escalate now, would we? Someone could get hurt in the crossfire.” 

“So talk,” he growls out, hands clenching into fists. “But let my sisters go. They have nothing to do with this.”

“I disagree,” Sayuri tilts her head to the side. “They were involved from the moment you agreed to be Soul Society’s pawn. Rather thoughtless of you, really– did you honestly think that they wouldn’t be affected by your decisions? That your actions wouldn’t have consequences?” 

There’s a faint undertone of scorn lining her voice now and Ichigo clenches his jaw so hard he can hear his teeth grinding together. 

“You made it  _so easy_  for me, you know,” she adds, voice soft as she trails one finger down Yuzu’s cheek. Yuzu whimpers and Ichigo digs his nails into his palms hard enough to draw blood. “No protection whatsoever…even I was surprised. It would have been the work of seconds to snap their necks as they were coming home from school–and it would have been for what, exactly? The sake of those already dead? Are they truly worth it, Ichigo-kun?” She doesn’t have to specify who ‘they’ are. 

“What would you have me do? Abandon the people I care about? I can’t do that,” he says, eyes narrowing. He doesn’t think he’s hated anyone as much as he does the woman in front of him right now. 

Sayuri smiles placidly. “See, that’s where we differ. You look at me like I’m a monster, and maybe I am. But I would  _never_  do anything to risk a sibling’s well-being, much less risk their life for a near-stranger.” She studies him for a moment. “Why are you fighting this war, Ichigo? Is it for the sake of Kuchiki Rukia and the shinigami? You and I both know they don’t deserve it– how can they, when they depend on a fifteen year old  _boy_  to fight their battles for them?”

“I am fighting,” Ichigo growls, a trace of something not quite human in his voice. “For my  _home._ ” 

Sayuri pauses, and a hint of something like regret passes over her face. “A noble cause, I admit. But is it worth it if it costs you the lives of those closest to you?” 

He doesn’t have an answer for her and it must show on his face because her expression softens a fraction.

“Despite what you might think, I am not an unfair person, Ichigo-kun,” she says quietly. “And I am not one to hurt children without cause. Take your people– Ishida Uryu, Sado Yasutora, and Inoue Orihime– and leave this war, and I’ll ensure that your sisters don’t become casualties of it. Do we have an understanding?”

“We do,” Ichigo says fervently, sudden relief flooding through him. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just…just don’t hurt them. Please.” She scrutinizes him for a moment before smiling almost sadly. 

“I’d like to believe you, but unfortunately, I can’t just take your word for it. So–” There’s a sudden ripping sound as reality seems to tear itself apart and a pale, masked figure with poisonous green eyes steps through the chasm, expression unreadable. “–consider this insurance.”

Before he can do more than shout in alarm, Sayuri grabs both Yuzu and Karin and all four figures seem to vanish before his eyes, the gap closing behind them. By the time he reaches the space they just occupied, the only evidence that remains of the encounter are three cold cups of tea and a too-empty house.

 

_Prompt: How might Gin and Sayuri interact with each other?_

Gin looked around curiously at the Fifth Division third seat’s office. It looked…well, if The Seireitei Communication were to do a piece on what the ‘ideal office space’ should look like, he’d imagine it’d look something like this. It was almost eerily neat.

“Tea?” At the soft voice behind him, Gin stiffened, barely refraining from jumping. He hadn’t even sensed her come in. 

“Ah, thank you. Ya asked ta see me, Aizen-sama?” He asked, slipping on his customary grin in an attempt to hide how uneasy he felt. Sayuri gave no indication as to whether or not she’d noticed his discomfort, instead motioning for him to take a seat.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing. You are a fair bit younger than the recruits we normally take, after all,” she said, offering him a cup of tea. 

“That’s awfully kind of ya, Aizen-sama,” he answered, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s an honor, really, but ya don’t have ta worry about me. I mean, didn’t you and Aizen-fukutaicho enter the ranks at an even younger age?”

“Touche.” For the first time, a hint of a smile flickered across her face before vanishing as quickly as it came. “But I couldn’t help but notice that you seem to be feeling a bit of hesitation regarding joining us here.”

“What makes ya say that?” Gin asked, wariness growing.

“Just a feeling I had.” She tilted her head to the side, dark brown eyes regarding him intently. “Am I wrong, Gin?”

He opened his mouth to lie, to deny it– he was good at fooling people, he always had been– but before he could, Sayuri cut him off.

“I advise you to think very carefully before lying to me, Gin. There are many things I can forgive. Insulting me by presuming me to be some weak-minded fool you can manipulate and deceive is not one of them.” 

He snapped his mouth shut and swallowed heavily. He’d always known that this plan of his could get him killed, but he hadn’t thought it’d be so soon. 

“Mm. I see. Does this have anything to do with a girl by the name of Matsumoto Rangiku, perchance?” Sayuri asked casually, eyes sharpening as Gin’s hand twitched involuntarily. “I believe she’s entering her second year in the Academy now? Lovely girl; she has the most beautiful strawberry blonde hair. From what I can tell, she seems quite promising. Relax,” she added as Gin stiffened. “I don’t plan on doing anything to her. Yet.”

She leaned forward in her seat. “The way I see it, this could go one of two ways. Unfortunately, it’s already too late for you to back out now, but that doesn’t mean your friend has to get involved. I can ensure her safety, you know. Make sure that whatever happens, she at least stays alive. Which, I promise you, would be more than you’d be able to manage on your own.” 

At his skeptical look, she sighed. “Believe it or not, I don’t actually take any enjoyment in the deaths of innocent children,” Sayuri said dryly. Gin stayed silent for a long moment. 

“How are ya plannin’ ta keep up your end of the deal?” He asked finally, as if he hadn’t already made his decision. At his question, her mouth twisted into an odd smile.

“My brother would do a lot more for me than spare the life of some girl he doesn’t care about,” Sayuri answered, a touch of wry humor entering her eyes. “It’s one of the reasons I don’t appreciate people plotting to kill him.”

“Ya think of little ol’ me as someone dangerous? Why, I’m flattered.”

“We may be twins, but we differ in a lot of respects. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m like my brother,” she said softly, and in that moment Gin could see exactly why Aizen Sousuke respected his sister so much. “I prefer to take care of potential threats before they become a problem.” 

_Prompt 3: Sayuri/Gin crack fic?_

_Operation Seduction is a Go Part 1_

There were a couple ways this could go, Gin mused to himself as he munched on a stick of dango he’d kindly requested from some snot-nosed brat (well, sort of. Kindly requested, taken forcefully, it all boiled down to the same thing, really).

Option one was that he join the shinigami and spend the next couple decades/centuries gaining that near-sighted bastard’s trust before stabbing him in the back. The great thing about this plan, of course, was that there was a decent chance he’d get to murder the asshole who hurt Rangiku. The main drawback was that Rangiku might be a teensy-weensy bit upset if he turned traitor, and also he’d probably die horribly in the process. 

Option two was that he get his revenge by banging the near-sighted bastard’s ridiculously hot sister. Granted, there was an equal chance he’d die horribly in the process but hey, at least he’d be getting laid. 

After another few minutes of careful contemplation, Gin came to his decision. Sure murder was fun and all, but there was something to be said for the sheer awesomeness of getting to look Aizen Sousuke in the eye and say, “Ha ha I got to see your sister naked suck on  _that_  you shithead.” 

 

_Operation Seduction is a Go Part 2: I dare Sayuri to go on a date with Gin_

“A carnival? Really?” Sayuri’s flat voice makes him grin as he turns to face her, holding two humongous cotton-candy cones. 

“Can’t go wrong with a classic, right?” He answers cheerfully. At least, the girl in that one shoujo manga seemed to think so, and according to Rangiku, shoujo manga never lies.

* * *

 

Or, well, it wasn’t  _supposed_  to lie, Gin thinks sourly to himself two hours later. Because there’s a script to these things, goddammit, but apparently Sayuri never got the memo. Or if she did, she seems determined to break every last rule in the ‘carnival date’ trope. 

Which isn’t  _fair,_  because Gin did everything he was supposed to. He’d bought her cotton candy and funnel cake, only for her to tell him that “sweets are really more Sousuke’s thing, not mine.” Figures that she’d tell him that only _after_  he bought them. Things had momentarily looked up when she’d agreed to his suggestion of trying out the balloon-dart game. He’d been all set to impress her and win her the biggest stuffed animal there (girls liked stuffed animals, right? At least, Rangiku seemed to) only…she’d somehow beaten him to it. Thirty seconds later, he was the proud owner of a giant stuffed beetle.

“It reminds me of you,” she’d said simply (which was frankly insulting. Foxes were cool. Snakes were cool. But a fucking  _beetle_?!).

Finally, after Sayuri somehow broke the ‘test-your-strength’ machine ( _how??_  Wasn’t being in a gigai supposed to prevent things like this from happening?), he’d decided to pull out his trump card and dragged her off to the Ferris wheel. Which brings him to where they are now.

It’s actually pretty nice. The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky all kinds of colors, and there’s a gentle breeze in the air. The whole thing is almost idyllic, with the carnival lights below them and the sounds of children laughing. With a smile that’s almost completely genuine, Gin turns to the girl beside him–

–only to find her fast asleep. 

Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration. Given the minute twitches of her eyelashes, Gin’s pretty sure she’s not  _deeply_  asleep, just…dozing a little. Still, Gin can’t help but feel a sharp spike of irritation (it’s not hurt, it  _isn’t_ ) and reaches over to flick her in the forehead. 

He doesn’t even see her moving until his hand is caught in an iron-clad grip, and he freezes as cold, hard eyes pin him in place. A fraction of a second later, recognition dawns and she relaxes, releasing his wrist.

“Oh. Is the ride over already?” Sayuri asks casually, peering over the side of the cart. “Thank you for taking me out, I had a lovely time.” They both know it’s a lie, a meaningless statement given for the sake of politeness, and Gin hates the way his stomach drops at the indifference in her expression. It doesn’t even make sense, since this was all just a ploy to get back at her brother and he doesn’t even  _care_ about her but–

Sayuri stiffens suddenly, eyes zeroing in on a point to the far east.

“What is it?” He snaps at her. 

“Hollow attack, five miles east of us,” she answers. 

“So?” Gin asks sullenly. “Ain’t like we’re on duty, who cares if–” That’s as far as he gets before he finds himself alone in the Ferris wheel cart, an empty gigai beside him. With an exasperated sigh, he pops a gikongan into his mouth before following.

* * *

 

He finds Sayuri crouched on a tree branch, eyeing the three or so hollows below her with something like disappointment. That disappointment only increases when one of the hollows spots her and sends a ground-shaking roar in her direction.

“Oh,” she sighs. “Well, this won’t do. This won’t do at all.” She turns to him, a contemplative look on her face. It’s the most emotion he’s seen from her all night. 

“Say, Gin-kun.” Something like anticipation flashes across her face. “How about we make this a bit more interesting?” Without waiting for an answer, she stands up and a pulse of pure energy– burning ozone and stardust– emanates from her figure, sending Gin’s knees buckling slightly. A ripping sound comes from above them and Gin looks up to see the sky tearing itself apart in response to the sudden increase in spiritual energy, hollows already pouring through. 

“5000 kan says that I can kill more of them than you,” Sayuri says, a touch of something almost… _playful_  in her voice and, well. Gin’s never been able to turn down a challenge. 

* * *

 

Gin kind of does embarrassingly bad against the hollows. In fact, he’s pretty sure it’s the worst he’s fought in years. He maintains that it’s all Sayuri’s fault because Aizen Sayuri is a thing of  _beauty_  in battle, so it’s completely understandable that he’d get a little distracted. Not to mention he’d like to see  _any_ guy fight at their best when simultaneously battling a hard-on the size of…well, he isn’t sure what to compare it to, but certainly nothing small. 

Still, Ichimaru Gin fighting at his worst is still a damn sight better than most people fighting at their best and when Sayuri sends him a slightly impressed look, he has to try his hardest not to preen.

“Not bad,” she observes. “You’ve gotten better. Not as good as me, of course, but I suppose you’re not  _entirely_  hopeless.” The teasing note in her voice isn’t foreign, but it’s also something that’s never been directed at  _him_  before, and Gin feels his face grow oddly hot. Glancing at the sky, Sayuri lets out a wistful sigh.

“Well, it’s getting pretty late so we should probably head back before my brother sends a search party after us,” she says wryly. Motioning towards him, she adds, “If you’d care to do the honors?”

“Sure thing, Aizen-chan,” he says, gathering his reiatsu and  _pulling_. A moment later, the familiar sight of the Senkaimon appears before them. Just as he’s about to step through it, a hand on his shoulder stops him. 

“Just a minute. There’s one last thing I want to do here,” Sayuri says softly, and the next thing he knows, he feels criminally-soft lips slide over his own. Gin’s eyes fly open, mouth parting in surprise and Sayuri wastes no time in deepening the kiss, sucking gently on his tongue before withdrawing with one final, playful tug on his bottom lip.

“I–um–wha?” Gin stammers dazedly. Sayuri’s mouth curves into a wicked smirk and somewhere in the back of his mind, Gin fervently hopes that she doesn’t look down. Shihakusho may be pretty effective when it comes to concealing certain…inconveniences, but they’re not  _that_  effective. 

“It  _is_  customary to end a date with a kiss, is it not?” She asks mildly, although there’s a glint of mischief in her eyes. “According to shoujo manga, at least.” 

* * *

 

Two days later, Ichimaru Gin nearly gives the owner of the local bookstore a heart attack when he strolls up to the counter and proceeds to buy their entire stock of shoujo manga. 

 

_Operation Seduction is a Go Part 3: I dare Sayuri to make out with Gin in front of Sousuke_

“Not that I’m complainin’, but I gotta ask– what changed your mind?” Gin asks curiously, still a bit breathless from the rather heavy make-out session she’d initiated.

“Well, I suppose I got to thinking,” she murmurs, trailing a finger down his chest. “You know that spar you had with Kuchiki-taicho the other day?” 

“Oh, yeah. Why? Were ya impressed?” Gin asks, grinning. 

“Mhm,” she hums. “It was certainly eye-catching, all that talent…all that strength…the way you destroyed half a dozen Squad 5 buildings and used up half of this month’s budget in construction costs–”

“Uh huh…wait, what?” Gin stiffens slightly in alarm as he spots the sharp edge in her smile. 

“Here’s a fun fact for you. Some of the new buildings have a slightly different design compared to the old ones, by which I mean that they contain much larger windows. Like that one, for example,” she says mildly, pointing to a building behind him. Dread pooling in his stomach, Gin turns around to find himself in the direct line of sight of one Aizen Sousuke. Upon meeting his gaze, the 5th Division Captain smiles and proceeds to set down his calligraphy brush, the genial expression on his face a complete contrast to the hardness in his eyes. 

“Good luck,” Sayuri murmurs into his ear, patting Gin on the shoulder. “You’ll need it.” 

 

_Operation Seduction is a Go Part 4: Slow dancing_

“You know, this isn’t half bad. I could get used to this,” Sayuri murmured absently. 

“You sound surprised. Wasn’t this whole thing your idea in the first place?” Sousuke teased, deftly spinning her out of the way of another dancing couple. “Quite imaginative of you, too; I don’t think many people would have come up with the idea of a Western style ball.” 

“Which is why I suggested it. It’s nice to do something different every now and then,” Sayuri paused. “Also, it was amusing to see shinigami running left and right like headless chickens trying to get dates.” 

“Ah, yes. Fortunately, that wasn’t something I had to worry about,” Sousuke said, voice lightly amused. “Speaking of dates, have I mentioned that you look rather stunning tonight?”

“Says the man who picked out my outfit,” Sayuri scoffed, although the corners of her lips twitched. 

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” Sousuke replied honestly. She really was a lovely sight– hair twisted up in an elegant bun, lips reddened with a touch of lipstick, wearing a dark green v-neck halter dress.

“Mmm. I do like the shoes you chose,” Sayuri admitted, glancing down at the silver stilettos she was wearing. “They’d make a decent weapon.” 

“Of course,” He smiled, before his eyes suddenly hardened. Sayuri didn’t need to look behind her in order to guess the reason behind his abrupt change in demeanor, already well-aware of what  _this_  particular shift in his reiatsu signified. 

“Be nice,” she chided, slapping him lightly on the chest.

“I’ll be nice at his funeral,” Sousuke muttered a moment before he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“Mind if I cut in?” The bane of Sousuke’s existence asked. Sousuke clenched his jaw as the teenage pervert then proceeded to look his sister up and down, a disturbing leer on his face– he didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know what the soon-to-be-dead brat was thinking about. “Ya broke my heart when ya agreed to go with someone else, Aizen-san, but I’m willin’ ta forgive ya if you honor me with a dance.” 

Sayuri was silent for a moment before she suddenly smiled. Sousuke stiffened in alarm when he saw the spark of mischief in her eyes– he knew that look. It typically didn’t bode well for him.

“Why, certainly, he’d be happy to dance with you,” Sayuri said cheerfully, reaching out with her free hand to grab Ichimaru’s. Then, before either of them could do more than blink, she tugged Sousuke forward and placed his hand on Ichimaru’s waist, while simultaneously placing Ichimaru’s hand on Sousuke’s shoulder. 

“Now, now, don’t refuse on my account; I wouldn’t want to get in the way of true love,” Sayuri smirked, even as she snapped her fingers to get the orchestra’s attention. Within seconds, the music changed to something slow and sensual. “Give it up for the first slow dance of the night, everyone!”

Without further ado, she proceeded to shove them both towards the middle of the dance floor, sending them off with a wink and a “You boys have fun!”. Someone wolf-whistled. He was pretty sure it was Matsumoto Rangiku. 

_I’m going to kill her_ , Sousuke thought numbly to himself. A crowd had formed around them, shouting encouragement (“Ah, young love,” Kyouraku said wistfully to an exasperated-looking Ukitake) and throwing flowers/money/various other objects. A box colliding with the back of Ichimaru’s head snapped him out of his still-horrified state. 

Looking down at the container full of condoms on the floor, the teen spoke only two words.

“She’s dead,” he said, voice sounding oddly mechanical.

It was the first and only time Sousuke agreed with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…yeah, that’s a taste of how things are probably going to go from now on. I hope this doesn’t come as a total disappointment. I do hope some of you stick around—but if you decide that this type of format isn’t for you, then I totally understand. Either way, I thank all of you for your support and I truly do appreciate it.   
> For those of you who are interested, prompts are pretty much anything goes (genre, ship, whatever). I can’t promise to take every prompt I get, as I am limited by both time and inspiration, but I’m definitely looking forward to receiving them! Current prompts I have lined up include Sayuri’s shikai, superhero!AU, etc. etc. As always, I can be reached at my tumblr if you have any questions (username: cooliogirl101).


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m glad to see that people seem to be taking well to the new format (for the most part). I’ve already got a bunch of prompts! This one’s kind of half-fic, half-stream of consciousness format haha.

_Prompt: Continuation of the Sayuri meets Ichigo prompt—how would Yuzu and Karin fare in Hueco Mundo?_

Yuzu and Karin are treated as well as any prisoner of war can be treated. Regular meals, no physical or mental torture, and it doesn’t hurt that both Sayuri and Sousuke have a bit of a soft spot for twins. Sayuri assigns Halibel to look after them, as she’s reliable, powerful, and the least likely to get emotionally attached to/maim/kill/traumatize/eat the kids. Most of the other Arrancar are banned from interacting with them, for the previously mentioned reasons. Karin lashed out a couple times in the beginning but immediately stopped after being threatened with separation from her twin. In reward for good behavior, they’re allowed certain privileges– Karin gets to play soccer with Halibel’s fraccion, Yuzu gets knitting materials (Sayuri promises to help her with her drawing skills if Yuzu helps her improve her knitting), updates on how Ichigo and their dad are doing, books to read, etc. After a few weeks have passed with no signs of resistance, Yuzu gets a fluffy orange cat. Karin gets a hyperactive puppy. They have tea with Sousuke once a week; he listens to them, asks after their well-being, talks to them like they’re adults and unlike Ichigo or Isshin, he tells them about the shinigami (and the many problems inherent in the system) and their own family history (the Shiba clan, how their dad was once a shinigami captain). And they can’t help but feel a little special, that a man as busy and powerful as Aizen Sousuke takes the time to check in on them so regularly. Sayuri hardly ever smiles and when she does, it’s usually for her brother…but occasionally her eyes will warm when she looks at them and her lips will curve upwards when Karin scores a goal or Yuzu brings her something. There are times where she slips up around them, reveals hints of her and Sousuke’s past, and it hurts to hear– neither Yuzu nor Karin can imagine what it’s like having a mother that would give them up. 

 _Sayuri’s not such a bad person, really,_  Yuzu decides after a month has passed.  _A little scary at first, but it’s clear she’s never wanted to hurt us._

 _They have a point_ , Karin thinks.  _The shinigami system…it sounds really messed up. Imagine having a government that allows people like that Kurotsuchi guy to go free! That regularly commits genocide! It’s no wonder they want to change things._

Gin looks at these two children who are already so enamored with their captors and can’t help but feel a twinge of pity. But then, it’s hardly a surprise. Aizen Sousuke once won over the entire Gotei 13 with his charm. As for Aizen Sayuri…he thinks of Tousen, Ulquiorra, the men and women she’s ruined, hungry for every scrap of approval she throws their way. So very _desperate_  to be the one she graces with her rare smiles, the one she trusts with her secrets.

Two eleven year old’s left in the dark by their father and brother, with no prior experience with manipulation? They never really stood a chance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...that feeling when your own OC scares you a little. 
> 
> Anyway, hoping that this new format means I’ll be able to write more! Since I can skip around and only write the exciting parts haha. I’m actually pretty excited about this, since I feel like I’ll get to interact more with all of you ^_^  
> Next up will be either Sayuri’s first meeting with Tousen or her shikai.


	13. Four Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An actual chapter, yay!

Four Interactions Kuchiki Sojun had with Aizen Sayuri

 

Sojun first met Aizen Sayuri at the Academy.

He’d been invited to give a speech to the upcoming graduates and had decided to take Byakuya along, only…well, sometime between giving his speech and speaking with the multitudes of students all eager for the chance at impressing a lieutenant, he’d managed to lose his son.

 _Not that there was anything to worry about,_ Sojun told himself. After all, the Academy was one of the safest places in the Seireitei and it was only a matter of time before Byakuya was found by a teacher. Granted, his wife might kill him once she found out and Byakuya might get hit by a stray fireball (Academy students were not exactly known for their aim, after all) or anger the wrong person or—

“There you are!” He cried out, shoulders slumping in relief as he came across his son in the company of a female Academy student. “What were you thinking, running off like that? I told you to stay put!”

“Sorry, Otou-san,” Byakuya said, looking briefly contrite before perking up again. “But look! I made a friend!”

For the first time, Sojun took a closer look at the girl whose hand Byakuya was currently clutching. To his surprise, she appeared to be only a few years older than his son.

“Thank you for looking after Byakuya. You have my gratitude,” he said politely. She nodded curtly at him in reply.

“You should keep a closer eye on him. He could get hurt, wandering around like this,” she said, expression unreadable. “Especially as he is right now. He’s very trusting, did you know that?”

 “Children should be trusting. They only learn distrust through betrayal and that is a lesson I would prefer he doesn’t learn until later, if possible,” he said after a long pause. At that, the girl smiled wryly.

“I suppose I can’t blame you for that,” she said. Turning to Byakuya, she bent down so she could speak to him at eye level. “You’ll practice what I told you?”

“Of course! A Kuchiki always keeps his word,” he recited proudly. Her smile softened into something more genuine.

“Good boy,” she murmured. With that, she detached herself from Byakuya’s grip and with one final nod to Sojun, disappeared off into the nearest building.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Sojun bent down and pulled Byakuya into a tight hug.

“Don’t scare me like that again, alright?” He whispered.

“Yes, Otou-san,” Byakuya promised. Sojun held him for another second before releasing him.

“So what did the two of you talk about?” He asked.

“I told her I wanted to be an artist and she told me before I could become an artist, I had to learn how to look at the world,” Byakuya said brightly. “She told me to practice looking at something for five minutes and then drawing it from memory. And when I got good enough at that, to look at something for only _three_ minutes before drawing it. And that when I got good enough to draw something after only looking at it for _one second,_ that I’d be just as good an artist as she is.”

 _An exercise to practice taking in one’s surroundings both quickly and accurately. A combat skill disguised as a game,_ Sojun thought to himself. He recalled the girl’s impassive face, the way she constantly kept herself at a distance, and felt very tired all of a sudden.

No child should ever have to be that guarded.

“Otou-san, do you think I’ll ever become as good an artist as she is?” Byakuya asked, looking up at him innocently. Trustingly.

_He’s very trusting, did you know that?_

“I hope you’ll never need to be,” he said, and if he held Byakuya’s hand a little tighter than usual on their way home…well, that was his own business.

 

* * *

 

The second time Sojun met Aizen Sayuri was at a curry restaurant. He’d been having tea with Kyouraku Shunsui, Ukitake Juushiro, and Hirako Shinji when Kyouraku suddenly perked up, attention caught on something across the street.

“What is it?” Ukitake asked, looking over as well. He abruptly let out an exasperated sigh. “Shunsui, when will you learn to leave them alone? The last three years should have told you that they don’t appreciate you bothering them.”

“Bothering who?” Hirako asked curiously. Sojun had stopped listening by this point though.

“The girl,” he murmured under his breath. At this, Kyouraku looked over in surprise.

“You know Sayuri-chan?” He asked in interest.

“Is that her name?” He asked before shaking his head. “I don’t know her; I simply ran into her once when I was giving a talk at the Academy.”

“The fact that _I_ don’t know about her, or the boy sitting next to her for that matter, is a surprise though,” Hirako said, squinting across the street at them. “It’s not often you see Academy students that young, after all.”

“Well, what are we waiting for then?” Kyouraku asked cheerfully, placing a handful of kan on the table. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

The girl, Sayuri, didn’t look all that surprised to be approached by three captains and a lieutenant, Sojun mused. Neither did her brother, for that matter.

“Sayuri-chan! Sousuke-kun! How are my favorite two students?” Kyouraku asked. Ukitake swatted the back of his head.

“I apologize for interrupting your meal,” he said, shooting an exasperated glance at Kyouraku. “Unfortunately, the years don’t seem to have taught him much about manners.”

“Not at all. You weren’t interrupting much,” the boy—Sousuke—muttered, shooting his bowl of curry a disgusted glance.

“If you don’t like the food, dearest brother, you’re welcome to choose the restaurant next week. Provided you win our little bet, of course,” Sayuri said mildly.

“You won the past three weeks! And you chose curry every time!” He complained.

“Then you’ll just have to try harder to beat me, won’t you?” Sayuri retorted.

“You have an unfair advantage, and you know it—”

“Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce to you Hirako Shinji, Captain of the Fifth Division, and Kuchiki Sojun, Lieutenant of the Sixth,” Ukitake cut in hastily, interrupting their bickering.

“Pleasure to meet you, Hirako-taicho. And it’s nice to see you again, Kuchiki-fukutaicho,” Sayuri nodded towards him, ignoring her brother’s surprised glance. “How is Byakuya-kun?”

“He’s doing well, thank you for asking,” Sojun said warmly. “Ever since he met you, he’s started carrying around a sketchbook everywhere.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that he’s been practicing,” Sayuri replied softly.

“I wasn’t aware that you two had met,” Sousuke said, an unspoken question in his voice.

“She ran into my son at the Academy when we were visiting. They talked briefly,” Sojun explained.

“I see. I’m not surprised she’d impart a few drawing tips, then. My sister is quite the artist, you know,” Sousuke said, smiling. “And her specialty is portraits. Maybe one day she’ll even do one of your son.”

“I’d like that,” Sojun replied, although he noted that Sayuri had stiffened slightly. He made a mental note not to bring it up again; art could be deeply personal to some people, and the last thing he wanted was to cause her any discomfort.

“Would you care if we joined you? I wouldn’t mind eating something more substantial,” Hirako asked abruptly.

“Please do, although I can’t vouch for the quality of the food here,” Sousuke grumbled.

“Ah, yes. You mentioned something about a bet?” Kyouraku asked, pulling up a chair.

“Yeah, and Sayuri _always_ chooses spicy food,” Sousuke complained.

“You’re hardly one to talk about variety. We both know that had you been the one to win, we would be at a teahouse right now,” Sayuri replied.

“Excuse me if I prefer food that doesn’t sear off my taste buds,” Sousuke retorted.

“That really sounds like a you problem. _My_ taste buds are fine,” Sayuri said mildly.

“You do know that plants are spicy as a _deterrent,_ not as an invitation for you to go eat them—”

“What were the two of you competing in?” Hirako asked as Sojun hid his smile behind one hand. The two of them glanced at each other.

“Sousuke and I have an agreement that each week, the person with the better rank gets to choose the restaurant,” Sayuri replied softly.

“Hmm. Must be pretty competitive, the two of you,” Hirako said with a shrewd smile. “Tell me, which class are you in?”

“Third,” Sousuke said, and for the first time, there was almost something…defensive in his posture.

“Middle of the pack, huh? I’d thought, given the interest that Kyouraku-taicho—well, no matter,” Hirako sighed.

A hint of anger flashed through Sousuke’s eyes.

“We—”

“We still have a lot to learn,” Sayuri interrupted smoothly, shooting her brother a warning look. “We’re quite aware of that, Hirako-taicho.”

“Of course, of course. And there’s nothing wrong with being in the Third Class. Granted, the Fifth is rather selective but every year we do take a handful of lucky students from there. I should warn you though, that generally we prefer our recruits to be of a…well, a more competitive bunch,” Hirako said, looking at them almost pityingly. Sojun frowned, because that—that wasn’t right. With a total of six classes and the majority of students being in the last three classes, no division outside of maybe the First or Second could _afford_ to only choose students from the first two classes. In fact, being in the Third Class meant almost a guaranteed acceptance into nearly any of the squads.

Hirako, being Captain of the Fifth, should have been well aware of this. At their age, such an accomplishment was already exceedingly impressive. So why—?

“It doesn’t matter. The only one I’m competing with is Sayuri, anyway,” Sousuke snapped.

“It’s fine, you don’t need to justify it. You’re a…what, only in your third year? You have time to improve,” Hirako said placatingly.

“I could’ve beaten them if I’d wanted to,” Sousuke said through clenched teeth.

“So why don’t you?” Hirako challenged, eyes glinting.

“Because we’re Rukongai and we’re children,” Sayuri said, expression hard. Hirako leaned back, surprised. “And because no one likes to have a couple of Rukongai brats showing them up, _especially_ not nobles. Yes, Sousuke and I are hiding our true abilities—is that what you wanted to hear, Hirako-taicho? We’re in the Third Class because that’s the highest class we can reach and still be relatively unnoticed. We’re in the bottom quarter of the class so that our classmates won’t view us as a threat. And since we can’t compete for the _higher_ rank, Sousuke and I compete for an arbitrary one instead, because that’s the only way we can challenge ourselves. And we make a game out of it, because we can’t do anything else. Does that satisfy your curiosity, Hirako-taicho?”

“You’re telling me a few bullies would be too much for you to handle?” He challenged. Sayuri looked at him steadily.

“I’m telling you that my brother’s safety is more important to me than my pride,” she said quietly. “I don’t feel the need to prove myself to you or some stupid ranking system, Hirako-taicho. I know what I’m capable of, what my brother is capable of, and that’s all that matters.”

For a long time, no one spoke. Then—

“Fair enough,” Hirako conceded with a reluctant chuckle. “Forgive me, I let my curiosity get the better of me.” He glanced at the two of them. “I don’t suppose you’d consider joining the Fifth after graduating? Guaranteed seventh seat or higher upon gaining shikai.”

“Now why would they do that when they could come to the Eighth and get fifth seat instead?” Kyouraku asked mildly. “Don’t give me that look Hirako-taicho, I did see them first.”

“Dual third seats.” At the others’ reproachful looks, Sojun grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. Of course, I’ll need to discuss it with Otou-sama first, but I don’t see him objecting.”

“Well, I see that just leaves me then. I can’t guarantee you a specific seat but you can ask me to teach you one new skill every month,” Ukitake said, smiling slightly. “In addition, I pay for your meal today. After all, there are things more important than rank, correct?”

A pause.

“We’ll give it some thought,” Sousuke decided, looking at Ukitake contemplatively.

“For now though, we need to head back to class,” Sayuri finished. “Thank you for the curry, Ukitake-taicho.”

Sojun waited until they were out of earshot before turning on Hirako.

“What was that about?” He demanded. “Interrogating them like that…they’re a couple of kids!”

“Kuchiki-fukutaicho is right, Hirako-san,” Ukitake said, a hint of steel in his voice. “That was a gamble at best and cruel at worst.”

“You’re right. That could have backfired…badly,” Hirako admitted slowly.

“I do wonder though, what gave it away for you?” Kyouraku asked, a glint in his eye.

“Excuse me?” Hirako asked, confused.

“Their act. What tipped you off that they were hiding something?” Kyouraku repeated.

“Ah. That.” Hirako paused. “When was the last time you entered a room full of people not of captain-status and _didn’t_ find yourself the center of attention?”

“I—” Sojun paused, thinking. Granted, he wasn’t a captain but as a lieutenant and the heir of the Kuchiki clan, he still commanded his fair share of respect.

“Exactly,” Hirako nodded. “But from the very beginning, there wasn’t a single instant where those two weren’t more engaged in each other than any of us. I understand that they’re close but even so, that’s…uncommon.”

Sojun hummed. He hadn’t noticed anything unusual, but that was because the majority of people he spent time with were either of his caliber or higher. Now that Hirako mentioned it, however, he was right—there was something about having high levels of spiritual energy that just…commanded attention from most people.

“And then there was the fact that when we sat down, _neither_ of them were bothered by it. Three captains and one lieutenant in an enclosed space…it doesn’t matter that we were suppressing our spiritual energy, that’s still enough to make the average Academy student lightheaded at the very least. The fact that they had enough spiritual energy to shield them from the effects of ours—simply by that alone, they should have been in the First Class.” Hirako shook his head, amused. “Now that I think about it, I’m wondering if little Sayuri-chan didn’t just feed me a giant pile of bullshit on why she and her brother were hiding their true skills.”

“What do you mean? Her reasons were perfectly valid,” Sojun said, confused.

“Yes, they were. And she put on a good show, I’ll give her that. But there’s no way someone can be worried about the retribution of a few Academy brats and still have the guts to talk back to a _captain,”_ Hirako grinned.

“Then their real reason…” Ukitake mused aloud. Hirako shrugged.

“Same reason we don’t show our shikai to just anyone. It’s always good to have a few tricks up your sleeve,” Hirako replied. “They’ve just made an art form out of it.”

He paused.

“Hey, do ya think if I offered to teach them _two_ things per month, they’d join the Fifth?”

 

* * *

 

The third time Sojun talked to Aizen Sayuri was on a scouting mission.

“I’ll keep watch,” Sayuri said flatly before promptly disappearing into the bushes. Sojun sighed, not even surprised anymore at this point.

“I’ll keep her company. The rest of you get some rest,” he ordered the rest of his team before heading off in the same direction as her. He found her sitting at the base of a tree, a sketchbook out on her lap.

“It’s been three nights, Sayuri-chan,” he said gently, crouching down next to her. “Get some sleep. I took you on this mission so you could get some experience, not so you could work yourself to exhaustion.”

“I can’t fall asleep anyway,” she said, expression blank. “Might as well keep watch while I’m at it.”

“Mm.” He paused. “You know, it’s alright to be scared on your first mission. You’re young and you’re an Academy student still; it’s perfectly natural.”

Sayuri let out a hollow laugh.

“Is that what you think is happening here?” She glanced up at him. “Believe me, some hollows are the least of my worries.”

“Then what’s bothering you?” He asked, reaching out to place his hand on her shoulder. She flinched away, and he let his hand drop.

“Ah.” He stayed quiet for a moment. “Someone hurt you, didn’t they.” It took effort to keep his voice calm.

There was a strange, bitter twist to Sayuri’s mouth, caught somewhere between a smile and a grimace.

“What’s the point of talking about it? They’re all dead now, anyway.” In the dim light, the shadows under her eyes stood out starkly against her pale skin. “And in time, my memories of them will be gone too.”

“You know,” Sojun began quietly. “Whenever Byakuya gets frightened, I tell him a story. I can’t do anything to keep his nightmares away, but I can distract him from them.” He smiled a little, looking down at his hands. “I even dress up as Admiral Seaweed—his favorite fictional character—on particularly bad nights. My wife thinks I look stupid and my father would despair of me if he ever found out, but...it never fails to make Byakuya laugh.”

Sayuri’s eyes narrowed.

“I am not a frightened child who needs to be coddled, Kuchiki-fukutaicho,” she said coldly.

“No, you’re not,” he said quietly. No matter her appearance, no one could ever say that Aizen Sayuri was a child. “But even adults get nightmares, and…and I’d like to help you get over yours, if you’ll let me.”

For a long moment, Sayuri didn’t say anything.

“When I’m upset, I draw. It’s soothing,” she said after a few minutes had gone by, her voice so soft it was nearly inaudible. She shifted her sketchbook closer to him. “You can look, if you’d like.”

With care, he picked up the book and began flipping through the pages.

_A half-naked woman collapsed like a broken marionette in a dirty alleyway, her neck at a strange angle, bruises littering her body, tears staining her cheeks and blood staining the inside of her thighs. A body washed up on a riverbank, features bloated beyond recognition. A baby’s carcass, half-eaten by rats, empty sockets staring up unseeingly at the sky._

He recoiled, not quite able to hide his revulsion.

“Not pretty, is it,” Sayuri said knowingly, before her expression sobered. “They’re everywhere, if you only look—the hopeless, desolate, and broken. They’re the people no one wants to see, but…I didn’t want them to die invisible.”

Sojun looked away, feeling humbled all of a sudden.

“Your drawings…they’re very good,” he said finally, stumbling over his words. At that, Sayuri’s lips quirked up slightly.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” she said, before turning to look at him seriously. “I want to leave my mark on this world, Kuchiki-fukutaicho. If possible, I’d like for my legacy to be something beautiful. If not, I’ll settle for making myself memorable—” She glanced down at her sketchbook. “—if only through the art I leave behind.”

“You will,” Sojun assured her. He meant it—there was certainly something beautiful in the act of recognizing the deceased. “Will you draw me someday too, Sayuri-chan?”

“I only draw the dead, Kuchiki-fukutaicho,” she replied, her expression unreadable. “But if the time ever comes…yes, I think I should like to remember you.”

 

* * *

 

The fourth time Sojun met Aizen Sayuri, he was in the process of dying.

 _Of all the things to come across, it just had to be a blasted Arrancar,_ Sojun cursed to himself, shivering. And to think that prior to today, he’d thought them a myth.

To make matters worse, it was incredibly foggy, a cold, dense mist that numbed the skin, obscured sound, and made it incredibly difficult to see. On the bright side, the fog seemed to be hindering the Arrancar just as much.

He stumbled forward as the Arrancar suddenly screamed, the sound seeming to echo from all around him. His head spinning, he barely managed to dodge a spiked tail coming his way.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are, little shinigami!” It cackled as Sojun struggled to catch his breath. “You can’t hide from me forever, you know. I still have to repay you for taking my arm!”

He wasn’t so lucky with the next attack, unable to get his zanpakuto up (when had he deactivated his shikai? He couldn’t remember) before the hollow’s tail slammed into his chest and sent him flying a dozen feet through the air.

The only consolation, he thought fuzzily to himself as he struggled to get to his feet, was that he’d managed to get a few blows in before everything started going to hell. It’d taken far more reiatsu than he’d expected, but at least he’d injured the hollow.

He hoped the rest of his squad made it back. They’d be able to tell his family what happened to him, at least. They’d be able to tell Byakuya that Sojun was sorry.

“There you are!” Sojun looked up to see the faint outline of his opponent flying above him, giant bat wings keeping it suspended in mid-air. Up above, the fog was less thick and it allowed Sojun to see that triumphant grin aside, the hollow looked rather worse for wear. Not only was it missing an arm, it was bleeding sluggishly from several large gashes and sweating heavily.

“I don’t have much energy left, so this attack will need to do,” it said, a ball of light forming in the back of his throat. Sojun swallowed but forced himself to keep looking, forced himself to face his own death head-on.

 _There was something almost beautiful about a hollow’s Cero,_ Sojun thought to himself blearily. A hurricane, a supernova, and the end of the world all at once—

And then a figure stepped in front of him, blocking the Cero’s path. A strangely familiar figure, with dark brown hair and an oddly calm countenance.

 _“Sayuri?”_ Sojun asked incredulously.

Aizen Sayuri—and it couldn’t be her, it _couldn’t be_ and yet somehow it was—barely spared a second’s glance his way before returning her attention to the incoming Cero. If Sojun didn’t know better, he’d say she looked bored.

As it happened, she didn’t even need to lift a finger. The Cero faded before it even reached her.

Then she turned to face the dumbstruck-looking Arrancar.

“Have you ever watched a star die, Kuchiki-fukutaicho?” She asked quietly, without taking her eyes off the hollow, now wreathed in white mist. “It’s a lovely sight.”

“Sayuri,” he croaked out, ears ringing. “Sayuri, please. Byakuya…my son—”

His vision fading, the last thing he saw was Sayuri crouching down next to him, her expression oddly gentle.

“Sleep, Kuchiki-fukutaicho,” she said tenderly, stroking his face. “Don’t worry about not waking up. It’s not time for me to draw you yet.”

There was a faintly glowing white ring surrounding each of her pupils. The last thought Sojun had before he slipped into unconsciousness was that she looked like a god.

 

As Kuchiki Sojun’s eyelids drifted shut, Sayuri turned her attention to the dimly pulsating cloud above her. Shudderingly slightly, she closed her eyes—she could almost _see_ the hollow’s life force in her mind’s eye, a fading ember surrounded by smoke, only…only it wasn’t quite _seeing,_ it was touch and taste as well, the burn of acid and the crackling of ozone all in one before finally dissolving into nothing, like champagne bubbles fizzing on her tongue—

 _That’s it, take it all in,_ Shiroi Seiun whispered into her ear. Sayuri could feel the weight of her zanpakuto settling around her shoulders, shimmering white mist possessively caressing every inch of her skin. _There’s nothing quite like the death of a soul, is there? And that was only with a hollow—imagine how much more delicious this one right here will taste. So bright, so_ warm, _you feel it too, don’t you?_

“Stop it,” Sayuri whispered. “He’s not our enemy.”

 _No._ And Sayuri could almost feel her zanpakuto spirit shrugging. _But what’s the harm? No one would need to know; we have the perfect excuse right here. And besides, it’s not like you’d be killing him, not really. Think of it more as…making him a part of us, forever. Not even death would be able to take him from you._

Sayuri hesitated…and then with an enormous effort, deactivated her shikai. Now safely inside her head, Shiroi Seiun let out a disappointed sigh.

 _A pity. Ah well, there will be other chances,_ she murmured. _For now, my dear little cloud, we have company._

“Figures we use our vacation to come out here looking for hollows to fight, and you come across a dying shinigami lieutenant,” Sousuke’s voice came from behind her a moment later. He glanced at Sojun’s unconscious body in disgust. “I suppose this puts an end to our break from the Seireitei. Still, I suppose a life-debt from him could come in handy.”

“Mm,” Sayuri said noncommittally. “Oh, and by the way Sousuke, I came across an Arrancar. That’s got to be worth at least twenty normal hollows, right? Which…puts our final count at fifty-five to forty-seven, in my favor?”

Sousuke blinked, before scowling.

“Of course you’d get lucky,” he muttered. “And it’s worth ten hollows.”

Sayuri smiled, reaching out to tweak his nose.

“Twenty hollows and you do the laundry for this week.”

“Do you even understand how bargaining is supposed to work? You’re supposed to go lower, not higher!”

“Not if you’re sure you can win. How do you feel about going out for curry this week?”

As they walked home, Kuchiki Sojun on her shoulders, she tried not to think about her brother’s spiritual energy pulsating next to her like liquid gold, the brightest star of them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly Sousuke is such a dick.  
> Sousuke: *hears that Sayuri spent like 2 minutes mentoring a boy that wasn’t him*  
> Sousuke: *knowing full well that Sayuri only draws dead people* maybe she’ll draw your son sometime Kuchiki-fukutaicho :)  
> Brief summary of her shikai ability, because I only touched upon it in the chapter:  
> Activation phrase: Illuminate, Shiroi Seiun  
> Name: Shiroi Seiun, which translates to ‘White Nebula’ according to Google. I thought it was pretty fitting, because her shikai takes on the form of a ‘cloud’ that surrounds/consumes ‘stars’ (souls).  
> Appearance of zanpakuto spirit: Tall woman dressed in a white kimono. Long black hair that falls to her waist. Glowing white irises. Long, sharp nails painted bright red, and matching lipstick. Age indeterminate.  
> Ability One: Dulls both her own and her opponent’s senses. Inside her shikai, it’s difficult to see, sounds are distorted, sensations are numbed, etc.  
> Ability Two: She has a preternatural awareness of everything inside the ‘cloud’ she creates. It basically amplifies her own reiatsu sensing ability to the point where it’s almost a different sense entirely. Illusion/sensory types are seriously disadvantaged against her—how can you influence a sense you don’t understand, after all? You can take away every other sense of hers, but you can't take away the one she relies upon most.  
> Ability Three: Her shikai ‘eats’ spiritual energy. The drain starts off slow but increases exponentially as it consumes more and more of her opponent’s spiritual energy. The strength of her shikai is, therefore, limited only by how much spiritual energy those within her grasp have. If it gets strong enough, it can attack the very bonds holding a soul together (which is what happened to the Arrancar). This also means if her fight drags on long enough, she will win, no matter who her opponent is.  
> Disadvantage One: Unlike most people, her initial activation of her shikai actually weakens her. Her shikai is too spread out/thin to do her much good, and it takes a while before it consumes enough energy to be dangerous. Which is why she held off on helping Sojun until the very end.  
> Disadvantage Two: Her shikai doesn’t distinguish between enemies and allies.  
> Disadvantage Three: Her zanpakuto spirit is kind of psychotic. Also, very similar to a hollow?? And every time she activates her shikai, she has to fight not to give in to that side of her. The stronger her shikai gets, the harder it is to resist.  
> If she gives in, well…not only will she lose her mind and become obsessed with the thought of consuming more spiritual energy, eventually she’ll reach a point where she can’t support her shikai anymore and it’ll collapse, crushing her under its weight.  
> Cool fact: You can tell how strong her shikai is by the ring around her pupils! (Think the eyes from The Host). Barely visible ring—shikai still in early stages, minimal reiatsu-drain. Her irises are entirely white—you ded.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find my original post for this fic here: http://cooliogirl101.tumblr.com/post/143205298416/cooliogirl101-when-is-a-monster-not-a-monster. It's pretty much just a more comprehensive summary on where I plan on taking it (ahaha jokes on you, I actually have no idea where I'm taking this)


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